13

Somewhere in the distance, I heard a commotion. Footsteps. Thumps. Voices. Concerned voices. Several of them. Saying my name. Loud snaps. More commotion. Then a discussion. I could almost make out the words. Something about salts.

A pungent scent lanced through me and snapped my eyes open. I gasped, glancing about wildly. Griggs, Rodgers, Quinto, and Fire Marshal Transom crouched over me, Quinto holding a small glass bottle near my nose.

I coughed. “What… What the… Where…?”

“It’s okay, Daggers,” said Rodgers. “How are you? Are you feeling alright?”

“I’m…” I lifted a hand to my chest. A black scorch mark covered the center of my shirt, but both it and the muscles and bones underneath were otherwise intact. I felt like I’d sucked half a campfire into my lungs, though. “Yeah. I’m okay.”

I looked up, recognizing the vases and sofa chairs and desk from the lobby of Fletcher’s investment firm. From my vantage point on the floor, I could only see partway into the hallway to the conference room, but what I could see looked brutal. Blackened walls, broken glass, soot everywhere. Smoke hung in the air, but faint, like the scent of an old friend. I didn’t see any flames.

“What the hell happened?” I croaked.

“We were kind of hoping you could tell us,” said Transom.

I felt like hell, like someone had stomped on me and turned me over a spit. I stretched my neck and tested my jaw. “Uh…you first.”

Quinto corked the small bottle and put it to the side. “Griggs?”

The old guy grunted. “Before I say anything, I’m going to need you to guarantee that you won’t pull another stupid stunt like that in the future.”

“What stupid stunt?”

“Running off like that,” he said. “Trying to be a gods damned hero. Mr. Johnny on the Spot.”

“Are you serious, old man?” I said. “We had a lead to follow. I told you to come with me. You’re the one who was dragging his feet.”

“Enough already,” said Transom. “Can we get to it already?”

Griggs grunted again. “Fine. After I’d rested, I came after you, only to arrive at this place and have the third floor windows explode as I get here. I hauled my ass up the stairs as fast as I could. Found you inside that room down the hall, flat on your back and out cold, with the room smoldering around you. Heavy scorch marks all over the floor, except where you were. Hauled you out. Almost threw my back out in the process. And here we are. Everyone else arrived a couple minutes later.”

“Wait,” I said. “You ventured into a burning room to save me, Griggs?”

“Smoldering,” said Griggs. “Wasn’t really on fire.”

I looked to Transom for help.

“It’s the damnedest thing,” said the marshal. “One of my guys saw the smoke. By the time we got here though, it had mostly burned out—and that only took a few minutes, mind you. That said, the furniture inside is burnt to a crisp. Nothing but embers left. And yet here you are. Griggs said you were in there, but…”

“He was in there,” said Griggs.

“Yeah. Yeah, I believe you.” Transom’s tone said he didn’t, though.

I glanced back toward the conference room. A fireman exited the room and tramped across the lobby, looking no worse for wear. “What else did you find in there?”

“What do you mean?” asked Transom.

“You know,” I said. “Remains.”

“Whose?” said Transom. “Was there someone in there with you? Seriously, what happened?”

I blinked. “Yeah. There was someone else. Fletcher’s secretary.”

This time, Rodgers and Quinto shared confused looks.

“That’s impossible,” said Rodgers.

“Why?”

“Because Fletcher’s secretary was with us,” he said. “She showed up at his apartment after you’d left. Apparently, Fletcher dismissed her this morning. Was acting weird. She was concerned and came by to see him. Found us instead. She’s devastated. Probably still outside right now.”

I lifted an eyebrow. “Is she tall, with dark hair, olive skin, and a great figure?”

“No, she’s blond, pale, and on the plump side.” Quinto peered at me. “Are you feeling okay? I think you might’ve inhaled a lot of smoke.”

“No. I mean, yes. It’s hard to say. I’m having a hard time remembering things.”

“Detective Quinto is right,” said Transom. “We need to get you checked out by a physician. It’s a miracle you’re alive at all. We need to make sure there’s no internal damage we’re not seeing. Here. I’ll help you.”

Transom put an arm around my shoulder and helped me to my feet. My legs wobbled as I stood, making me hold off on telling him to take a hike.

“Quinto and I’ll try to make sense of the crime scene,” said Rodgers. “Daggers, you sure there was a woman here with you? Was she the arsonist? Did you see her set the fire?”

“I…” I wet my lips with my tongue and swallowed. My throat felt ready to crack. “I don’t know. I’m questioning so much right now. If there aren’t any remains in the room, I guess not.”

Rodgers and Quinto exchanged glances. Quinto shrugged, and they headed toward the burnt room.

Griggs snorted. “You got him on the stairs?”

Transom nodded. “Don’t worry yourself. We’ll be fine.”

Griggs grunted that knowing grunt, the one that said he was secretly worried but had already put his life on the line dragging me to safety. Helping me down the stairs would have to be someone else’s job.

Transom gave me a nudge. “Come on.”

He helped me out the door and we started on the steps, taking them slow.

“You got water below?” I asked.

“You bet,” he said. “And the medic’s going to make you drink more than you ever wanted, so gird yourself.”

I nodded. We made it to the second floor landing, and I motioned for Transom to take a break. I held myself against the railing and took a deep breath, which caused me to cough up a lung.

“It was sprites, wasn’t it?

“What?” I turned and looked at Transom. Fear lingered in his eyes.

“I’ve never seen anything like that,” he said. “The way that fire spread, or rather didn’t? It’s as if something drew away all the heat, set everything ablaze and took its energy only to suck it back in, condense it into the embers at the middle of the room. I don’t understand how else it could’ve skirted you. It’s unnatural.”

I paused a second, trying to collect my thoughts. I fingered my wedding ring. Ash flaked off it, but it was otherwise fine. “Yeah. It was fire sprites. What I saw? Must’ve been.”

Transom nodded. “Going to be hell trying to explain this to my superior.”

“Likewise.” And it would be, but the truth would be even harder to explain. As rare as they might be, at least fire sprites existed. Who in the world would believe a tale of a succubus looking to consume the sins of worldly men through flame? And not just any men’s sins. Mine.

I gave Transom the go ahead. “Alright. I’m good. Let’s find that doctor.”