Page 26 of House of Soot

“I won’t.” I step out the front door. We’re angled to the house and I can see that the back is untouched. But the bushes and trees near the front of the house are burned. The smell of smoke still lingers. Guards patrol the grounds. Work crews areassessing the damage. There doesn’t seem to be a lot of damage, considering the noise.

But no Blaise.

"Hey!" I catch the sleeve of a passing maintenance worker. "Have you heard anything about casualties? The guards who were injured?"

He shakes his head, pulling away. "Sorry, we're just here for cleanup."

I enter through the back kitchen. It’s buzzing with activity, as if nothing happened.

“Is everyone alright?” I ask Debbie, who barely looks up from the French toast she’s cooking.

“Oh, hey. You good?”

“Yes. What happened? Is everyone alright?”

“I have no clue. No one does. No one has explained anything. We’re told just to do what we normally do.”

"Less talking, more cooking," the head chef snaps.

Through the kitchen windows, I spot a familiar figure on the lawn. My heart stops. Blaise. He's alive, standing there, talking to Ronan like it's any other day. They shake hands and then Ronan walks off.

I bolt from the kitchen, running as fast as I can across the grounds. "Blaise!"

He turns at my voice, and everything else fades away—the smoke damage, the workers, even Ronan. I crash into Blaise's chest, my fingers clutching onto him like I’m afraid he’ll disappear.

"You're okay. You're really okay." I press my face into his neck, breathing in his scent beneath the lingering smoke. "I was so scared."

His arms wrap around me, steadying my shaking body. "Hey, I'm fine. Just doing my job."

"I couldn't sleep. Couldn't stop imagining—” My voice breaks. "Why didn't you come tell me you were safe?"

"Things were chaotic. We had to secure the perimeter, check for more devices." His hand strokes my hair. "I'm sorry I worried you."

I pull back just enough to see his face, needing to memorize every detail. A smudge of soot marks his cheek. His suit reeks of smoke. But he's whole. Alive. Here.

“You’re okay? I was told you and your mom were in the cottage.”

I nod. “Yes. We were fine. Just worried. It felt like déjà vu… the Ifrinns all over again.” I look up at him. "Who would do this? The Keans are good people.”

Blaise stiffens. “Are you saying the Ifrinns weren’t good people? They deserved?—”

“No, not at all.” I narrow my eyes at him, wondering why he’d say that. “No one deserves this. I’m just saying… without the Keans, Mom probably wouldn’t be here. I certainly couldn’t be taking care of her. That’s how good the Keans are.”

The muscles in Blaise's jaw tics. "Maybe someone has a different perspective on the Keans."

"What perspective could justify this?" I gesture at the scorched walls, the broken windows. "They're good people. And now someone's trying to hurt them just like the Ifrinns. Why? It doesn’t make sense.”

He studies me like he’s surprised. Like he thinks I should know reasons someone would want to hurt the family. I’m not so naïve that I don’t know the sort of business the Keans are in. I suppose they could have made enemies. Maybe this is a retaliation. For a moment, I think of the four missing Ifrinn brothers. Would they come back and do to the Keans what was done to them?

I quickly dismiss that idea. The Ifrinns and Keans were friends and partners. The sons would know they have no reason to hurt the Keans. In fact, I imagine that if the boys, now men, returned, Mr. Kean would take them under his wing and help them like he helped the rest of us.

“What?” I demand. “Do you know why?”

“I need to get to work. Ronan and his father have promoted me.”

I feel like I should congratulate him, but I’m a little peeved that he acts like the Keans are the sort of people someone would want to blow up or burn.

“That’s great,” I manage. Then, worried that I’m being silly, I ask, “Will you still be able to come to dinner soon?”

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