Page 75 of Grave Expectations
Hissing. I could hear steam hissing over the crack and growl of the fire. Shouting too. Everyone seemed to be shouting at me. Through my damp, stinging eyes I could make out a lot of men running about. Where had they all come from? I tried to speak to them, but my throat felt like it was on fire. Breathing hurt, too. I couldn't get enough air into my lungs. And that infernal hissing! It wouldn't stop. When my eyes cleared a little, I could see that it belonged to the brass pump on the fire engine. The people were firemen and they were dragging a large hose up to the burning factory.
Windows popped. Glass shattered. Someone pushed me down and out of the way. When I looked up again, smoke spewed from the broken windows, and the firemen were trying to put out the flames licking the frames.
"Anyone else in there?" the man who'd caught me asked.
I shook my head. "Dead," I managed.
He patted my shoulder. "Least you got out alive, eh? You and your…cat. Lucky. Very lucky. Whole place is about to fall."
Something tickled my cheek. I wiped it and my sleeve came away damp. My tears surprised me. I'd not thought I would shed them for Holloway. Perhaps it was only the smoke making my eyes water.
More men arrived, running past me. Local factory hands perhaps, come to help the firemen to stop the fire spreading. There was no sign of my horse or coach.
The imp, however, sat on its haunches at my side, panting, its tongue out. Nobody paid it any notice. "Come," I said.
No one tried to stop me as I headed away from the fire. They were all too busy. My chest still felt as if something were crushing it, but I managed to reach the end of the lane before another coughing fit overtook me.
I placed my hand to the wall to regain my strength and my breath. The imp watched, waiting. It mewled once then lay down, its chin on its paws. The poor thing must be tired after repeatedly saving me.
I glanced around, but nobody was near. "Back into your amber, imp. Go to sleep now. Return."
I shut my sore eyes against the blinding light. When I opened them again, the imp was gone. I checked my pocket. The pendant was still there, thank God. It felt warm.
I stumbled out of the lane and around the corner. I wanted to get away before someone stopped me and asked questions. I just wanted to go home.
I began to walk. Without a reticule, I couldn't pay for a hansom back to Lichfield. Then I saw the coach, and the horse still with it, tied to a bollard. Someone must have led it away from the fire. I couldn't believe my good fortune.
I gathered up the reins and, with effort, climbed up to the driver's seat. Unsure exactly where I was, or how to get to Highgate, I returned the way we'd come, back into the city until I recognized a familiar street. From there, it didn't take long before I reached the gates of Lichfield Towers.
Home.
I couldn't wait to get inside and collapse on the sofa with a cup of hot chocolate and Lincoln's arms embracing me.
The horse knew its way to the stables and coach house, so I didn't have to do anything except hold the reins. I was still some distance down the drive, however, when the front door burst open and Gus, Seth and Cook hurtled out. Doyle brought up the rear.
"Bloody hell," Gus growled, snatching the bridle. His prominent brow crashed together. "What'd you take off for?"
"Holloway forced me," I rasped.
"Holloway?" He looked to Seth, but Seth was watching me with a frown. "Where'd he take you?"
"To a factory on the edge of the city. It was set alight and I escaped."
"That be why you're covered in ash and soot," Cook said, hands on hips. "We be worried about you."
"Aye," Gus muttered. "Very. You're a sight for sore eyes, let me tell you. Where's Holloway now?"
"Dead."
Seth expelled a breath. "Are you all right?"
I nodded. I felt numb now that the danger had passed. Perhaps later, when I thought about it during a quiet moment, I would feel something. But not yet.
"That's that, then." Gus patted the horse's nose. "Go inside, Charlie. I'll see to the coach and horse."
"And I'll make you something warm." Cook headed back into the house, and Doyle followed him like an automaton. I don't think he'd blinked once as he'd stared at me through wide eyes. I must be a sorry sight.
"Hot chocolate," I called after Cook, although I was not sure if he heard. My roughened voice held little strength.
