Claire could
all too easily imagine that both she and Samael would be incinerated, but she
had to trust him.
Didn’t she?
She
realized—again—that she was putting an awful lot of faith into someone she
barely knew.
Her feet kept
slipping and sliding on the deck. The soles of her shoes made loud squeaking
noises, like sneakers on a basketball court. She felt as though she were
balancing on a tightrope.
Don’t look
down!
They were
about halfway to the front of the boat when the porthole in front of them
suddenly blew open with a flash. Flames and broken glass exploded like shrapnel
in front of them, sizzling as it splashed into the harbor. Claire screamed and
shied away, but Samael kept moving ahead, getting closer to the tongue of flame
that was now licking up the side of the boat. It was almost invisible against
the bright blue sky.
Do not look
down!
Claire tried
to shut out the commotion all around her. She had to focus on taking one step
at a time and holding on to Samael. Every other step was like stepping onto a
nail. But she had to trust him.
As he
approached the virtual wall of flame, Claire looked up, thinking they may have
to climb onto the roof of the boat in order to get away, but who was to say the
fire wasn’t worse up on the roof. Paint on the side of the boat began to bubble
up and peel away as the heat inside the restaurant rose higher and higher.
The whole
thing’s gonna blow up…We’re all gonna die , Claire thought.
Tears now
filled her eyes when she wondered how all of her friends and family and
coworkers were going to react when they heard how she had died. The thought
passed through her head that it was at least better than dying a slow, painful
death with cancer…or Alzheimer’s.
But dying by
fire?
She had heard
or read somewhere that burning was one of, if not the most painful way to die
because you inhaled the flames, and they incinerated your lungs before you
died, so you couldn’t scream or cry for help. You couldn’t even breathe. Of
course Samael, being a demon, could have told her a lot about it, but she
didn’t know that yet.
She looked
down at the water again, thinking it might be better to take her chances by
jumping in, but Samael kept pulling her forward relentlessly, closer…and closer
to the flames that were blasting from the broken porthole and ripping up the
side of the restaurant.
When they got
there, the fire didn’t seem as bad and, as Samael passed by the window first,
amazingly, the fire seemed to abate for a second or two in order for him to
pass.
“Hurry up,” he
called back over his shoulder, still holding her hand.
Claire’s heart
was racing now, and waves of dizziness swept over her, but she focused on where
to place her feet—step by careful, painful step. She crouched low when she went
past the open window, fully expecting a blast of heat flame to turn her into a
charcoal briquette.
When she was
beside the window, she looked inside for a split-second glimpse into hell. What
had been a beautiful upscale restaurant mere minutes ago was now a raging inferno.
The walls and floor were engulfed with flame. Fire had stripped the walls down
to the frame. Chairs and tables that had been shoved out of place and
overturned as the patrons had fled were blazing like torches. She thought she
saw a slumped human shape sprawled on the floor, its clothes burning, but she
couldn’t be sure. Samael kept a firm hold on her hand and guided her forward.
When they got
to the front of the boat, they mingled with the last few stragglers who were
lurching out of the restaurant, waving their hands in front of their faces as
they made their way up the gangplank. Only when she was a reasonably safe
distance away from the fire did Claire let her guard down. She looked at
Samael, who still appeared unfazed by what they had just gone through.
Hell, his hair
was barely mussed, and no sweat or soot smudged his face the way it did all the
other survivors. The
all too easily imagine that both she and Samael would be incinerated, but she
had to trust him.
Didn’t she?
She
realized—again—that she was putting an awful lot of faith into someone she
barely knew.
Her feet kept
slipping and sliding on the deck. The soles of her shoes made loud squeaking
noises, like sneakers on a basketball court. She felt as though she were
balancing on a tightrope.
Don’t look
down!
They were
about halfway to the front of the boat when the porthole in front of them
suddenly blew open with a flash. Flames and broken glass exploded like shrapnel
in front of them, sizzling as it splashed into the harbor. Claire screamed and
shied away, but Samael kept moving ahead, getting closer to the tongue of flame
that was now licking up the side of the boat. It was almost invisible against
the bright blue sky.
Do not look
down!
Claire tried
to shut out the commotion all around her. She had to focus on taking one step
at a time and holding on to Samael. Every other step was like stepping onto a
nail. But she had to trust him.
As he
approached the virtual wall of flame, Claire looked up, thinking they may have
to climb onto the roof of the boat in order to get away, but who was to say the
fire wasn’t worse up on the roof. Paint on the side of the boat began to bubble
up and peel away as the heat inside the restaurant rose higher and higher.
The whole
thing’s gonna blow up…We’re all gonna die , Claire thought.
Tears now
filled her eyes when she wondered how all of her friends and family and
coworkers were going to react when they heard how she had died. The thought
passed through her head that it was at least better than dying a slow, painful
death with cancer…or Alzheimer’s.
But dying by
fire?
She had heard
or read somewhere that burning was one of, if not the most painful way to die
because you inhaled the flames, and they incinerated your lungs before you
died, so you couldn’t scream or cry for help. You couldn’t even breathe. Of
course Samael, being a demon, could have told her a lot about it, but she
didn’t know that yet.
She looked
down at the water again, thinking it might be better to take her chances by
jumping in, but Samael kept pulling her forward relentlessly, closer…and closer
to the flames that were blasting from the broken porthole and ripping up the
side of the restaurant.
When they got
there, the fire didn’t seem as bad and, as Samael passed by the window first,
amazingly, the fire seemed to abate for a second or two in order for him to
pass.
“Hurry up,” he
called back over his shoulder, still holding her hand.
Claire’s heart
was racing now, and waves of dizziness swept over her, but she focused on where
to place her feet—step by careful, painful step. She crouched low when she went
past the open window, fully expecting a blast of heat flame to turn her into a
charcoal briquette.
When she was
beside the window, she looked inside for a split-second glimpse into hell. What
had been a beautiful upscale restaurant mere minutes ago was now a raging inferno.
The walls and floor were engulfed with flame. Fire had stripped the walls down
to the frame. Chairs and tables that had been shoved out of place and
overturned as the patrons had fled were blazing like torches. She thought she
saw a slumped human shape sprawled on the floor, its clothes burning, but she
couldn’t be sure. Samael kept a firm hold on her hand and guided her forward.
When they got
to the front of the boat, they mingled with the last few stragglers who were
lurching out of the restaurant, waving their hands in front of their faces as
they made their way up the gangplank. Only when she was a reasonably safe
distance away from the fire did Claire let her guard down. She looked at
Samael, who still appeared unfazed by what they had just gone through.
Hell, his hair
was barely mussed, and no sweat or soot smudged his face the way it did all the
other survivors. The
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