tilted and swirled. Sirens still wailed outside, mingling with dozens of voices. One sound was gone: the roar had ceased.
It worked. Yay, me.
The gurney wobbled. Concerned violet eyes gazed down at me, framed by soot-streaked hair and more purple. A heavy frown creased her face. “What did I say, young lady?” she asked.
“Be more specific?” I slurred, knowing full well what she meant. My throat was dry, voice hoarse. Water. Definitely needed water.
“Only what you can manage.”
“Caught me by surprise.” I licked my parched lips and tasted ash. Gross. “Must have been the chemicals, whatever was burning. It’s never gotten away from me like that before.”
“It was a damned big fire, Ember. I should have known better.”
“Not your fault.”
A smile ghosted across her face. “I’m in charge. Everything is my fault.”
“I’m alive.”
“And probably poisoned.”
“Nah.” I tried to sit up and the ambulance tilted. “Okay, maybe. Everyone else all right?”
“Everyone else is fine.” She sat down on the ledge next to the gurney. Ash smudged her cheeks, giving them a hollow, carved-out look. “The blaze is almost out, thanks to you andTempest. Captain Hooper is laying down foam, though, just in case. Cipher and Onyx chased a few squatters out of the building next door, but I’m sure they’ll be back inside tonight. It didn’t spread.”
Good news. I loved good news.
“Any idea what started it?”
She shook her head. “The arson investigator hasn’t been able to go inside yet. Onyx flew a few rounds overhead once the smoke cleared, but couldn’t get a good look at anything. It’s an old building. Bad wiring and barrels of flammable material do not go well together.”
“No kidding.”
The nausea had subsided, along with most of the dizziness. Now all I needed was to get out of those wet blankets.
“So you’re quite taken with the electrician,” she said.
I blinked. How in the world did she—?
“Your body temperature spiked to one hundred four for a few minutes. His name came up.” She grinned and seemed more like a girlfriend than a concerned boss. “In relation to eyes and lips, if I recall correctly.”
My cheeks burned. Good God, what had my delirious brain let loose for her to hear?
“Relationships are tricky things,” she continued. “I won’t tell you to not see him, just to be careful. Not everyone really gets what we are, or how that affects our lives. There’s more to it than physical attraction. Hill House is our sanctuary.”
Good advice, but not something I wanted to hear at the moment. It was easy for her to lecture about our love lives;her boyfriend was one of us, and therefore understood things by default.
Trance smiled. “Don’t worry, no lectures. At least not until you look a little less like a drowned rat.”
“Or feel less like one. Do we have fresh clothes?”
She reached out of my line of sight and produced jeans and a navy-blue sweatshirt. “Found these in the car. I think they’re Flex’s.”
With a lot of patience, time, and careful maneuvering in a tight space, I sat up and peeled out of the wet uniform. Some of the odor left with the clothes, and I used a dry blanket to towel off. Modesty didn’t even occur to me. The rear of the ambulance faced the side of a firetruck and no one passed by.
The navy sweatshirt—“Princess” emblazoned on the front in fuchsia stitching—fit, no problem. I rolled the cuffs of the jeans several times. Flex wore tall; I went back and forth between petite and regular. I felt strange bouncing around without a bra or panties, but it was either discomfort or a big wet spot on my butt.
I ran the blanket through my damp hair. “Should get Tempest over here for a quick blow-dry,” I mused.
Trance scooted to the end of the ambulance and twisted my clothes, wringing out the excess water. Each motion was an exercise in deliberation. Twist, squeeze, drip. Repeat. Motherly and kind, taking care of
It worked. Yay, me.
The gurney wobbled. Concerned violet eyes gazed down at me, framed by soot-streaked hair and more purple. A heavy frown creased her face. “What did I say, young lady?” she asked.
“Be more specific?” I slurred, knowing full well what she meant. My throat was dry, voice hoarse. Water. Definitely needed water.
“Only what you can manage.”
“Caught me by surprise.” I licked my parched lips and tasted ash. Gross. “Must have been the chemicals, whatever was burning. It’s never gotten away from me like that before.”
“It was a damned big fire, Ember. I should have known better.”
“Not your fault.”
A smile ghosted across her face. “I’m in charge. Everything is my fault.”
“I’m alive.”
“And probably poisoned.”
“Nah.” I tried to sit up and the ambulance tilted. “Okay, maybe. Everyone else all right?”
“Everyone else is fine.” She sat down on the ledge next to the gurney. Ash smudged her cheeks, giving them a hollow, carved-out look. “The blaze is almost out, thanks to you andTempest. Captain Hooper is laying down foam, though, just in case. Cipher and Onyx chased a few squatters out of the building next door, but I’m sure they’ll be back inside tonight. It didn’t spread.”
Good news. I loved good news.
“Any idea what started it?”
She shook her head. “The arson investigator hasn’t been able to go inside yet. Onyx flew a few rounds overhead once the smoke cleared, but couldn’t get a good look at anything. It’s an old building. Bad wiring and barrels of flammable material do not go well together.”
“No kidding.”
The nausea had subsided, along with most of the dizziness. Now all I needed was to get out of those wet blankets.
“So you’re quite taken with the electrician,” she said.
I blinked. How in the world did she—?
“Your body temperature spiked to one hundred four for a few minutes. His name came up.” She grinned and seemed more like a girlfriend than a concerned boss. “In relation to eyes and lips, if I recall correctly.”
My cheeks burned. Good God, what had my delirious brain let loose for her to hear?
“Relationships are tricky things,” she continued. “I won’t tell you to not see him, just to be careful. Not everyone really gets what we are, or how that affects our lives. There’s more to it than physical attraction. Hill House is our sanctuary.”
Good advice, but not something I wanted to hear at the moment. It was easy for her to lecture about our love lives;her boyfriend was one of us, and therefore understood things by default.
Trance smiled. “Don’t worry, no lectures. At least not until you look a little less like a drowned rat.”
“Or feel less like one. Do we have fresh clothes?”
She reached out of my line of sight and produced jeans and a navy-blue sweatshirt. “Found these in the car. I think they’re Flex’s.”
With a lot of patience, time, and careful maneuvering in a tight space, I sat up and peeled out of the wet uniform. Some of the odor left with the clothes, and I used a dry blanket to towel off. Modesty didn’t even occur to me. The rear of the ambulance faced the side of a firetruck and no one passed by.
The navy sweatshirt—“Princess” emblazoned on the front in fuchsia stitching—fit, no problem. I rolled the cuffs of the jeans several times. Flex wore tall; I went back and forth between petite and regular. I felt strange bouncing around without a bra or panties, but it was either discomfort or a big wet spot on my butt.
I ran the blanket through my damp hair. “Should get Tempest over here for a quick blow-dry,” I mused.
Trance scooted to the end of the ambulance and twisted my clothes, wringing out the excess water. Each motion was an exercise in deliberation. Twist, squeeze, drip. Repeat. Motherly and kind, taking care of
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