agonizing blistering and crumpling of his skin. In the end, he found Phil by bumping into him.
From instinct, he grabbed at him as an ominous cracking sounded even through the roar of the flames. There was an instant of clarity when he realized Phil was pinned to the balustrade with wooden stakes through his hands, and that the whole stairwell was about to collapse, balustrade and all.
The only way to go on was not to think. To shut out the heat and close down the part of his brain that still felt pain. He allowed the anger, the fury, since it gave him a false strength he no longer had in reality. Blair altered his grip and yanked. The balustrade came with Phil, and Blair swung back the way he’d come.
But the smoke was so thick now he couldn’t even see the window he’d crashed through. Still relying on an instinct that couldn’t be trusted in this hell of heat and smoke, Blair took his last chance. He could end it all by rushing straight into the thick stone walls. With the force of his run, that would be his last act. Or he might get it right and find the window.
Carrying Phil and the accompanying balustrade in his arms, Blair leapt. The balustrade crashed and broke against the wall, vibrating through him like a machine-gun blast. But there was colder air and nothing under his feet.
The night was alight not just with fire but with emergency flood lights. Human voices yelled, mingling with the wail of sirens. Fire engines, ambulances, and police cars seemed to fill the edge of the yard and the street beyond.
The ground rushed to meet him. He glimpsed a policeman, openmouthed and stunned, and then the sea of smoke and rubble closed in once more.
Even as he hit the ground running once more, despite the agony of burning skin and the dead weight of his tragically silent friend in his arms, the joy of survival rushed through him.
Who’d have thought a mere forty years ago, when Ailis had forcibly tethered him to the earth with responsibility, that the mere extension of existence could have made him grin like a maniac in the carnage?
****
Nobody wanted to be the one to open Serafina’s the next day. So, buoyed up by a shower and a lot of coffee, Sera did it while the others took turns to go home and change. It was a mostly clear day, appointment-wise, because Sera had set it aside for the chasing of new business.
“And since I don’t feel capable of chasing anything that moves faster than a cup of coffee,” she told Melanie, “I think I should stay here and watch you de-spell the banking vampires.”
“What if they go on the rampage?” Mel asked anxiously. “If they’re suddenly released from Nick’s control…”
“Well, they can’t rampage before tonight. And if they’re no longer acting together, Blair can kill them.”
Something twisted inside her as she spoke the words, but there was no time to dwell on that because Melanie was bringing up other problems. “Yes, but how long will that take? You said he wanted you to track them for him. Do you really want to be a sniffer dog for a vampire assassin?”
Sera flopped into the nearest chair and rubbed her tired eyes. “I don’t know what else to do. There are too many of them, and they keep killing.” She lifted her gaze to Mel, who looked unnaturally bright and wide awake. “And what about Nicholas himself? If you break his spell, will he not be able to just recast it when you’ve gone home?”
Mel eased her hip off Elspeth’s desk and walked to the window. “Not really,” she said ruefully. “My counter-spell should run through each vampire to the source of the original spell.”
“Nick?”
“Nick. Each loosening should weaken him. To be honest, I doubt he’ll have much magical power left by the time we finish with him.”
The twist tightened. Sera wondered if it was her conscience. “You mean he won’t be psychic anymore?” How would that make me feel? I wouldn’t be different anymore. I could have a normal life, get married, have kids… So why does the very idea make me feel dead inside?
Melanie said, “I don’t think that can be taken from him, any more than his knowledge can.”
Was that relief? Did she really care what happened to that bastard who’d rejected and ignored her and was perfectly happy to enslave humanity? Christ, I need more sleep.
“It’s his—energy, if