Something I Don't Know

32: for once, the fire has nothing to do with me

I have to say, I've never been this excited to hear a pixie's voice. "Oh, thank God. River, are you safe?"

"Uh, yeah," he says, his voice tinny but loud as it rings out within the car. We're in Mom's rental car, the punch buggy we drove here.That is, Mom and I are. Safiya had to stay up at the estate because, you know, she's flammable, and Neha stayed with her because, you know, they're a thing. "Currently chilling at home, eating a Snickers bar. Why?"

"Why? Have you been living under a rock? The city's on fire!"

A pause. "Oh. I guess it is. It hasn't me reached me yet."

"By hell, River," I snap. Mom runs a red light. In any other circumstance I would advise against that, but desperate times call for desperate measures. "Have you heard from Midge? Or the Donahues?"

"No," he answers, slowly. "Not in a bit. Last I heard they were all three headed back to the loft, looking for you."

Of course. The loft, which is just outside of downtown, which the fire has certainly reached by now.

A pit forms in my stomach. They're fine. They have to be fine. Everything is fine.

"Stay alive, pixie," I say. "I'll call you later."

I end the phone call, gesturing to Mom to hit the gas. "To the loft, Mom," I tell her. "Godspeed."

The closer we get to home, the worse I feel. Buildings crumple on their foundations, people run, mouths agape, from burning buildings. The pavement's scorched black and the vegetation furls in on itself. At one point, we reach a road that's scoured by flames and have to get out of the car.

We trek the rest of the way by foot, me leading the way thanks to the whole night vision thing, Mom not far behind me. I have to duck my head a little, the smoke pricking tears at my eyes. The whole time we're walking, I'm screaming—mentally that is. Jesus Christ, Midge. For once in your life, please read my mind. Please know I'm coming for you. Please tell me you're okay.

And I keep waiting for a reply, but there's nothing.

I've tried her phone fifty times, probably more, since we left the Bhatt estate. It keeps going straight to voicemail.

This is shaping up to be bad; I know it is. That doesn't mean I'm giving up.

We come up on a hill, and the loft looms in front of us. I inhale, not sure whether to be relieved or confused. It's not burnt to the ground, which I suppose is the first thing I notice. The second thing, though, is that it's not even singed—not one brick has been blackened, not one plant burnt alive. In fact, a few smoldering flames seem to sit in a ring about the rim of the property, as if kept out by some invisible wall.

I look at my mom. My mom looks at me.

I step forward, up to the front door, half-expecting the wall to shut me out. It doesn't, and I toss it open. The front room's the same as I remember it: straw welcome mat, coatrack by the door, little clay bowl for the keys sitting neatly on the hallway table.

"Midge?" I call, warily. "Jamie? Violet?"

At first, I don't hear a thing. Then I notice a pink-haired head pop up from behind the couch, followed by two white-haired ones. Levi coalesces in the air like water condensing on a mirror.

I crumple a little with relief. "Oh, by hell," I exhale, as Midge jumps to her feet, crossing the floor and throwing herself into my arms. I squeeze her tighter than is probably necessary, burying my nose in her hair, breathing in the scent of her. "You're okay. Thank God, you're all okay."

Midge doesn't let go of me. "I did a protection spell around the loft when Jamie saw the flames," she says, "so we're fine. What about—what about you?"

She steps back, beginning to examine me. She smooths her hands over my chest, runs her fingers along my palms, tilts my jaw one way and then the other. "You're bleeding," she observes. "Why are you bleeding?"

"I'm not bleeding; it's dried," I say, and when her face screws up in horror, I realize that isn't too comforting. "Anik shot me."

"Three times," croaks Mom, behind me.

Midge's face is thirty different kinds of surprised. She looks at me, then at my mother, then back at Jamie, who just shrugs. "Ms...Ms. Meesang? What are you doing here?"

"Corinne," Mom corrects, stepping forward. "I was called here by Anik. It's a long story, but...nevermind. He's not going to be a problem anymore, to put it simply."

"So Safiya and Neha reached you, then?" asks Violet. She's still standing in the den, beside her brother. I should be used to it by now, but seeing the two of them stand next to each other still creeps me out. She's like Jamie's older, prettier, female clone.

My eyebrows knit. "Yes, they did. How did you...how did you know I was in danger?"

"Besides the fact you vanished into thin air and didn't come back?" Midge says. "Well, I...I heard your call."

Despite myself, I turn a grin towards her. "You read my mind again."

"No," she says, taking my hand in hers. She looks down at our entwined fingers for a moment, then lifts her gaze, her eyes wide and brown and so shimmery that no flame could ever compete. "I...I just knew, somehow. I felt you. I just knew."

So I am still slightly confused, but the one thing I do know is that, wow, if I don't love this girl with positively every inch of me, if I'm not drowning in her right now, if I don't want to sweep her off her feet and carry her off right here, right now, in front of everyone.

In fact, it takes a lot of effort not to do that.

Instead, I curve my hand around her face, placing a few strands of her hair behind her face. "Midge," I tell her, leaning down towards her. "Jesus, Midge, you drive me insane."

"The good kind of insane?"

"The best."

I lean down to meet her lips, just briefly, but then there's a startling crash and both of us jump back from one another.

It's Levi, standing beside the fireplace. At his feet are the shards of another one of my antique vases.

"Get a room, you two," he scolds, but he's grinning.

And then we're all grinning, and we're all laughing, and I ruffle Jamie's hair and pull him into a hug and then Midge joins and Violet joins and even my mom does, and for a second we're this large, incomprehensible mass of arms and legs and giggles. After all, we've made it this far. We've walked through fire, and lived to tell the tale.