A fighter knows instinctively when there's no chance. But Rashel planned to fight anyway.
And then she noticed something wrong.
The vampires should have caught it first. Then-senses were sharper. But their senses were turned
inward, focused on the victims in front of them. Rashel was the only one whose senses were turned
outward, alert to everything but focused on nothing.
There was a smell that was wrong and a sound. The smell was sharp, stinging, and close by. The sound
was soft, distant, but recognizable.
Gasoline. She could smell gasoline. And she could hear a faint dull roar that sounded like the fireplace in
the gathering room-but was coming from somewhere else in the house.
It didn't make sense. She didn't understand. But she believed it.
"Quinn, get ready to run," she said, a gasp on a soft breath. Something was about to happen.
No, we have to fight-
His thought to her broke off. Rashel turned to look at the doorway.
Hunter Redfern had moved into the gathering room-but there was someone in the hall. Then the
someone stepped forward and Rashel could see her face.
Nyala was smiling brilliantly. Her small queenly head was high and her dark eyes were flashing. She was
holding a red gasoline can in one hand and a liter of grapefruit juice in the other. The bottle was almost
full of liquid and had a burning rag stuffed in the top.
Gas. Gas from the pump on the wharf, Rashel thought. A Generation-X Molotov cocktail.
"It's all over the house," Nyala said, and her voice was lilting. "Gallons and gallons. All over the rooms
and the doors."
But she shouldn't be hanging on to it, Rashel thought. That bottle is going to explode.
"You see, I am a real vampire hunter, Rashel. I figure this way, we get rid of them all at once."
And the house is already burning....
Behind the carved screen on the right side of the room, ruddy light was flickering, growing. The faint roar
that had disturbed Rashel was louder now. Closer.
And everything's wood, Rashel thought. Wood paneling, wood floors. Frame house. A deathtrap for vampires.
"Get her," Hunter Redfern said. But none of the vampires charged toward Nyala with her
about-to-explode bottle of death and her can of fire accelerant. In fact, they were backing away, moving
to the perimeter of the room.
Hunter spun to face Nyala directly. You need to put that down, he began in telepathic tones of absolute
authority-at the same time Rashel shouted, "Nyala, no-"
The sound of telepathy seemed to set something off in Nyala. Flashing a dazzling savage smile, she
smashed the grapefruit juice bottle at his feet.
With almost the same motion, she threw the gasoline can, too. It was flying in a graceful arc toward the
fireplace, spinning, spilling liquid, and vampires were scattering to try to get out of the way.
And then everything was exploding-or maybe erupting was a better word. It was as if a dragon had
breathed suddenly into the room, sending a roaring gale of fire through it.
But Rashel didn't have time to watch-she and Quinn were both diving. Quinn was diving for the floor
past Nyala, trying to drag Rashel with him. Rashel was diving for Timmy.
She didn't know why. She didn't think about it consciously. She simply had to do it.
She hit Timmy with the entire force of her body and knocked him to the floor. She covered him as the
fire erupted behind her. Then she scrambled to her knees, her arm locked around his chest.
Everything was noise and heat and confusion. Vampires were yelling at each other, running, shoving each
other. The ones who'd been splattered with gas were on fire, trying to put it out, getting in one another's way.
"Come on!" Quinn said, pulling Rashel up. "I know a way outside."
Rashel looked for Nyala. She didn't see her. As Quinn dragged her into the hall, she saw dark smoke
come billowing from the dining-room area. The hall was bathed in reddish light.
"Come on!"
Quinn was pulling her across the hall, through the smoke. Into a room that was full of orange flames.
"Quinn-"
Timmy was kicking and struggling in Rashel's arms. Yelling at her. She kept her grip on him.
And she went with Quinn. She had to trust him. He knew the house.
She hadn't realized how frightening fire was, though. It was like a beast with hot shriveling breath. It
seemed alive and it seemed to want to get her, roaring out at her from unexpected places.
And it spread so fast. Rashel would never have believed it could move so quickly through a house, even
a house soaked with gasoline. In a matter of minutes the building had become an inferno. Everywhere
she looked, there was fire, smoke, and a horrifying reflection of flames.
They were on the other side of the room now, and Quinn was kicking at a door. His sleeve was on fire.
Rashel twisted her hand out of his and beat at it to put it out. She almost lost hold of Timmy.
Then the door was swinging outward and cool air was rushing in and the fire was roaring like a crazy
thing to meet it. She was simply running, in panic, her only thought to hold on to Timmy and to stay with Quinn.
They were out. But she smelled burning. And now Quinn was grabbing her, rolling her over and over on
the sandy unpaved road. Rashel realized, dimly, that her clothes were on fire in back.
Quinn stopped rolling her. Rashel sat up, tried to glance at her own back, then looked for Timmy.
He was crouched on the road, staring at the house. Rashel could see flames coming out of the windows.
Smoke was pouring upward and everything seemed as bright as daylight beneath it.
"Are you all right?" Quinn said urgently. He was looking her over.
Rashel's whole body was washed with adrenaline and her heart was pounding insanely. But she couldn't
take her eyes off the house.
She stumbled to her feet. "Nyala's in there! I have to get her."
Quinn looked at her as if she were raving. Rashel just shook her head and started helplessly toward the
house. She didn't want to go anywhere near it.