now.”
“Move away, Mum. We don’t want to put the burn on you, too.”
The fiery glow of the boy’s eyes was so bright, it brought tears to Mark’s eyes. Samuel swung his head around, and a blast of heat grazed Mark’s chest.
In that second, Mark’s questions were answered, and he knew that Lea was telling the truth. He understood how the murders had been done. He understood that the twins had murdered, scorched and murdered. And now he felt the searing heat from Samuel’s eyes burn his chest.
He lowered his head and took off.
“Samuel-stop it!”
He heard Lea’s frightened plea over the pounding thuds of his shoes on the asphalt pier. He didn’t turn around.
A blazing burst of pain exploded on his back. He heard his shirt sizzle and felt his skin erupt in a circle of fire. Mark dropped to his knees and rolled toward the row of parked cars across the pier. Slid between two cars as another scorching beam cut the air. The blue Honda beside him burst into flames.
With a cry, Mark jumped to his feet. Gasping from the pain that radiated over his back, he stumbled toward the tiny shingled Dock House. When he ducked under another red ray of fire, it sailed over his head and died in the water beyond the pier.
Lea’s shrill screams. . Daniel’s shouted instructions to Samuel. . the boys’ pattering footsteps as they pursued him-all became a blur of sound beneath the bass-drum pounding in his chest.
He couldn’t think straight. No time to make a plan. The terrifying beam from Samuel’s eyes could barbecue him in seconds. And as that thought raced through his mind, he also realized that Lea was probably telling the truth about herself. And that he could lose her.
Lose her. Oh no. Oh no. Lose her.
A hoarse cry escaped his throat as he started to heave himself through the open door of the food shack. He thought better of it. Wheeled around and ran crazily, off-balance, in a wild stagger, and stumbled to the far side of the little building-just as it burst into flames.
He heard shrieks of horror, turned, and saw three or four workers run out, pushing each other as they fell through the doorway, crying and shouting their shock and horror. The long apron on a young red-headed woman was on fire. She struggled with the straps, then dropped to the ground on her belly, trying to smother the flames.
A second explosion sent flames shooting off the low, flat roof. Mark glanced back. The twins were ambling toward him, not even bothering to hurry. So relaxed and confident. And why not? Mark was helpless against the boy’s unnatural weapon. Helpless against the evil magic Lea had warned him about. Sure, he could run. But where? He couldn’t escape. And he couldn’t turn and face them down.
Over the crackle of the flames, he heard shouts. People came running out of the waffle cone shop and from the restaurant at the end of the pier. He didn’t have long to watch them. Another scorching stab of pain caught him in the back of the leg, hobbling him. Forcing him to his knees.
A sharp stab in his right shoulder and the skin split open. He felt the burn run down his arm. With a scream of horror and pain, his leg throbbing and aching, he lurched to the edge of the pier. Swung his body around-and glanced to the water.
He gripped the low, white metal railing at the edge of the pier. His right arm throbbed. He could barely hold on, but he started to lower his body toward the rolling water. Glancing back, he saw Daniel’s intense stare and the pulsing red eyes of his twin as they made their steady way toward him.
A powerful heat blast bounced off the metal railing, shook the rail, and made a
He glimpsed the dark water below. He took a deep breath and prepared to loosen his hold on the rail.
And then stopped.
He gripped the rail tight and stared across the pier as Lea caught up to the boys. They had all their attention on Mark. Daniel was pushing his brother forward, moving them in for the final burn. They didn’t see Lea come up behind them.
Ignoring his pain, Mark hung on the rail and watched Lea move up behind the boys. She stretched out her arms as if to tackle them both. Instead, she wrapped her arms around them, pulled them into a tight hug from behind.
They struggled to free themselves. The three of them moved in an awkward dance, held together in Lea’s tight embrace.
As she wrestled with them, she called to him. “Good-bye, Mark. Good-bye, darling. It’s the only way. I have to take them back.”
“Lea, no!”
Gripping the rail, he watched helplessly as Lea spread her hand over Samuel’s blond hair-and turned his face to her. Turned his burning eyes on her.
Took the beam of fire. Turned it on herself.
Mark couldn’t stop the howl of horror that burst from his throat. Working his legs against the pier wall, he struggled to pull himself up. To get to her. To reach her in time.
But no.
Lea burst into flames that consumed her instantly, rising like candlefire, straight, without a flicker. She didn’t move or struggle or make a sound. The boys squirmed and thrashed. But even as she burned, Lea held them close, pressed them to her. And the fire swallowed them, too.
Unable to breathe or cry out, Mark watched all three of them in the fire, statues in a dark embrace, then ash, crumbling ash, a sinking pile of ash inside the single tall flame.
Then gone.
Gone, and the fire vanished with them, leaving the asphalt unmarked.
Mark felt hands grip his arms. Saw faces above him. People tugging him up from the pier side. He heard screams and cries. Sirens approaching. Smoke swept over him from the still-flaming Dock House. People came running onto the pier, faces tight with alarm. Seagulls screamed in the sky.
He let it all fade to the back of his mind. He pictured Lea. Her smile. Her bright, dark eyes.
Gone. Lea was gone.
As he stared, the fire that had consumed her went out with an almost-silent
75
Mark found Roz in the flower bed at the side of the guesthouse. She was on the grass, digging with a trowel in a square of black dirt. Axl, in red shorts and a sleeveless red T-shirt, sat nearby in a clump of freshly planted petunias, stabbing at the ground with a plastic shovel in imitation of his mother.
Roz looked up and brushed a bee away from her shoulder. “Who was that on the phone?”
Mark hunkered down beside her. He liked the smell of the fresh dirt. Like rich coffee. “Sergeant Pavano. You remember. The cop.”
Roz nodded. “Of course I remember him. What did he want? To arrest you for some other murder you didn’t do?”
Mark snickered. “Don’t be bitter. He had no choice really.”
“Of course he did. And I’ll be as bitter as I want. He was a total idiot.”
