Running With Devils

Twenty

I snickered at the added comment.

"I will decapitate you," I growled.

"Don't make promises that you can't keep, little witch," he winked, placing a firm kiss to my temple as he rolled off me. "Run. Now."

I didn't ask anymore questions. I simply hauled ass out of my room. Immediately I was hit with a thick layer of smoke.

Orange flames had lit up the foyer, the old grandfather clock had stopped its ticking and was now just a broken box.

No.... Please god no—

"Go, Coralynn," Malachi shouted angrily over the sound of roaring flame. "Get the fuck out now!"

I was barefoot and barely dressed. I was in no condition to fight fire with my clothing choices. I couldn't save it. I ran back into my room, ignoring Malachi's demands and grabbed my family grimoire.

I almost had to stop to look at my room one last time, but Mal would have actually blown a gasket.

So I sprinted down the stairs, fire and smoke singeing the outer layers of my skin. I ran through glass and splintered wood, my feet screaming for reprieve. But I did not stop.

I searched for the safest route through the crumbling home. My heart was aching at the sight of it.

All those memories of my childhood were up in smoke. The pictures of my parents that had once hung on the walls were now on the ground, shattered to pieces.

I could barely run through the heartbreak. The tears were the only things cooling me down as the flames closed in.

But then a sharp snapping sound came from above, forcing my eyes upward. The delicate antique chandelier hung by a thread.

Then it came crashing down with a huge chunk of ceiling with it. A horrified scream erupted from my throat as I forced myself to jump out of its path.

Only I landed in crackling coals. It took me a moment to recognize the smell of burning flesh.

Another throat shattering scream tore through my body and in an instant, I was thrown to my feet and lifted. The family grimoire was still clutched against my chest like my life depended on it.

"Can't you do anything I ask," Malachi hissed, moving quickly through the flames.

"I— tried," I sobbed, pain still burning through me. "I'm sorry!"

"Don't apologize," he snapped. "I asked one simple thing of you! This fucker could be anywhere."

We made it to the back door. Setting me upright, he kicked it down.

"Get. Out," he snarled. "To the tree line."

My legs wobbled beneath me as I started to run again. Looking back over my shoulder, I watched the house I had grown up in crumble to ash.

I stumbled to the ground, heaving ash and rubble from my body.

My silk rose gold slip was blackened with smoke.  My feet were burnt to a crisp along with my hands and knees.

I watched my tears fall into the untouched grass. Nausea roiled in my stomach, threatening another round of expulsion.

All I could think about was trying to save every memory I had of the home my family had cherished so deeply. I struggled to remember the exact location of the measuring door frame, marking my growth into womanhood. I could still see my fathers proud grin as he notched another mark into the wood. I frantically fought to hold onto the kitchen where my mother and I had baked our favorite sweets on rainy afternoons.