The heat was fierce, scorching her clothes and searing her skin. Heart pounding with fear, Shirley spun, not sure where to go. The smoke did a mad dance around her, making it difficult to get her bearings. If she couldn't use the stairs, she'd have to run down the hall ... but which way was safest?
"This way," a voice said behind her.
Shirley jumped then turned. A figure emerged from the swirling darkness. Something deep within quivered in recognition. This was Ethan Hunt, the man she'd sensed earlier.
"Trust me," he said and held out his hand.
She hesitated, despite the danger of doing so. The dancing brightness of the flames revealed the finely chiseled planes of his cheeks, and a nose that hinted of exotic blood. It was a handsome face. A haunted face. One she could trust—at least for now.
She placed her hand in his. His fingers closed around hers, wrapping them in a heat that was fiercer than any flame.
He led her quickly through the fire and into another room. She kicked the door shut, then saw the only exit was the large window to her left. They'd have to jump.
Shit.Shirley thrust kinetically at the window. The glass burst outwards, glittering like a thousand bright stars as it fell earthward.
Wind rushed into the void, slapping her face like a bucket of cold water. She blinked, and looked at the ground far below. It was a long, long way down...
As if sensing her sudden reluctance, Ethan grabbed her, swinging her into his arms.
"No!" she screamed, then shut her eyes as he ran toward the window. He leaped out into the night. The wind whipped around them, and, just for an instant, it felt as if they were flying.
The illusion shattered when they hit the ground. The impact wrenched her from Ethan's hold and pitched her roughly forward. She rolled down a slight incline and through several plants before coming to an abrupt halt against a fence, rear half buried in the garden bed and legs pointing skyward.
For several seconds she just lay there, too stunned to move, just thankful to be alive. She'd bitten her tongue sometime during the fall and could taste blood in her mouth, but other than that, everything seemed in working order.
At least she was free from the house, and the immediate threat of evil. But the man with the hypnotic sapphire eyes was still near—she could feel his presence, hunting her. She'd better get away from this area—fast.
She slowly lowered her legs from the fence. Pain shot along her back, and she groaned softly. No doubt she'd have a colorful array of bruises to parade tomorrow.
"Take my hand."
Every nerve in her aching body jumped. Her heart in her mouth, she glanced up. Ethan's form flowed out of the night and found substance. Just like a ghost, Shirley thought with a shiver. Her gaze swept from the blackness of his clothing to his face. Instinct might be telling her to trust this man, but there was something in his eyes that made her wary.
And yet he'd undoubtedly saved her life. "If you were going to throw me out a window," she muttered. "You could have at least arranged a softer landing."
Though his eyebrows rose in surprise, a hint of a smile touched his generous mouth. Shirley ignored his outstretched hand, and pushed herself into a sitting position. Her stomach churned, and she took several deep breaths, battling the urge to be sick.
"We have no time," he said, concern touching the soft tones of his voice. "Please, take my hand and let's go."
Shirley studied him for a moment, then looked back at the house. Bright flames were leaping from the ground floor windows, hungrily reaching skyward. She had no sense of Merry, but the evil was on the move.
She took his hand. He pulled her up easily, his strength at odds with his lean build. Surprisingly, he stood only three or four inches above her five-four. In the flame-filled confines of the hall, he'd appeared a lot bigger.
"He hunts us," Ethan stated softly. Though he still held her hand, he'd turned slightly to study the house. "We must keep moving."
"What about Merry?"
Ethan glanced at her. His eyes were ancient, endless pools of ebony. You could lose yourself forever in those depths, Shirley thought, and glanced away uneasily.
"The child accompanies her master. You were a fool to go in after her."
"She would have died if I didn't." Shirley took her hand from his, and briskly rubbed a tender hip.
His smile was grim. "Death is one thing that child no longer fears."
She frowned at him. "What do you mean?"
"Nothing." He shrugged gracefully. "Ready to move?"
She returned her gaze to the house, then nodded.
Ethan led the way forward. He was quiet, as one with the night. A ghost, she thought uneasily. She glanced at her fingers, remembering the gentle strength of his hand in hers. If he was a ghost, he was certainly a solid one.
"I am as real as you, Shirley," he said softly. His dark gaze touched hers briefly before returning to study the surrounding night.
She'd forgotten he could read her thoughts—just like Jason had, so many years ago. Fear stirred, along with old guilt. So why did she trust him? She couldn't say, and that worried her.
"They follow us."
Shirley looked over her shoulder. A dark shape lumbered after them. "Should we run?"
"No. They can run faster than you ever could."
But not, she surmised from his tone, faster than he could. So why was he still here, offering his protection?
There was a flash of movement to her left. Before she could react, Ethan thrust her sideways and spun to meet the charge of a second creature.
She hit the ground, tasting dirt. Spitting it out and cursing him fluently, she rolled back to her feet. The creature attacking Ethan held a knife, the blade a blue-white flame against the night.
Ethan seemed wary of it, something that struck her as odd. Certainly it wasn't what she'd considered a large knife, not when compared with what the street kids used these days. She grabbed a rock near her feet and threw at the creature. It hit with enough force to make the creature stop and shake its head in confusion.