Henri Beck & the Hidden Library | 📖

7

Smoke and flames had swallowed the entire west wing of the mansion. Henri choked on the soot and carbon monoxide swirling in the hazy air. With his free hand, he pulled the collar of his shirt over his mouth and nose. The thin material of his silky pajamas did nothing to filter the toxic gases slithering down his throat.

His chest burned with the same fire licking the walls of his family home. The house groaned as the flames ate away at the wooden supports in the ceiling. Chunks of the mansion fell around him as the fire raged on.

"Watch out!" Thea yelled from beyond the black veil ahead of him.

Henri jumped backward, narrowly avoiding one of the crystal chandeliers that hung from the high ceilings. It shattered on impact, the noise ringing in Henri's ears. Every piece of broken glass reflected the fiery scene around him.

"We gotta get out of here!" Malik shouted.

Henri heard his voice, but he couldn't see the boy. The smoke limited his vision to just a few feet ahead of him, and the soot floating in the air stung his already blurry eyes. He held his breath, but the putrid taste of noxious fumes in his mouth made him want to puke. His head spun as dark spots filled his sight like holes in a roll of burning film.

A strong hand grabbed him by the back of his shirt. It pulled him away from the mansion's spiral staircase, which had begun to cave in on itself. Wood splinters sprayed into the air as the fire consumed it whole. The wallpaper peeled off the walls. The windows were seconds away from exploding. Above him, the ceiling looked like what he imagined hell to be.

Henri sobbed into his shirt.

"Henri, move your ass!" Malik shouted.

He hiccupped as he blinked away his tears. The other boy's hand guided him away from the carnage and through a door that hadn't yet been touched.

Malik slammed it shut. The fire raged on behind it. Reddish-orange light flared through the gap underneath and between the doorframes. Panting, Henri backed away from it. He tangled his fingers in his smoky curls. More tears spilled down his face. They left streaks through the black grime covering his usually toffee-colored skin.

He turned to Malik. "The house..."

"There's nothing we can do about it, Henri. I'm sorry but...it's gone."

He fell to his knees with his eyes trained on the door ahead. Destruction resided beyond the barrier protecting them from the flames. He could hear the crackling of burning wood. He could smell the toxic air filtering into the room they took refuge in.

His home... His family's home...

The Becks had been living here since America was founded. Hundreds of years of history lived in those walls, from the archaic wallpaper to the cracked tiles in their kitchen. All of it told the story of the Becks.

It all was burning. And there wasn't anything Henri could do about it.

"Henri," Malik said as he approached the boy with wild eyes. The ash and smoke had ruined his clothes. His warm eyes were red with irritation. "We gotta go, dude. We'll get burned alive if we stay in here."

"In here," he mumbled incoherently. His glazed-over eyes scanned the room.

The garage. That's where Malik had pulled him into.

Storage bins filled with old documents, random clothes, and Henri's Lego sets were stacked sky-high off to the sides. A small workstation that his mother used to make her authentic candles was pushed off into a corner to make room for the small collection of vehicles that took up most of the garage's floor space.