My hand is shaking and I put the phone down gently before I drop it. Carol’s in that place. They’re going to hurt her.
They’re going to kill her.
I’m not completely inept with guns. Logan taught me some basics and took me to the family’s shooting range a couple of times. I take one of Mason’s pistols that I think I can handle, make sure it’s loaded and the safety is on.
The gun is in my beach bag and I’m strolling down the hallway like I’m heading out to the pool for a sunset swim. Logan’s going to kill me.
And kill Mason, probably. Though he really shouldn’t kill Mason, this isn’t his fault.
My steps slow as I approach the clinic’s doors. I’m running through the layout in my head. The hardest part will be getting through the reception area. One of those giant orderlies is standing behind the counter with the nurse I’d seen earlier. There are other ways in and out, right? I remember seeing an emergency exit door, just down the hall from my examination room.
I can barge in, point my gun at them and demand Carol. But there’s got to be half a dozen of them with guns and then… just me. I canna count on Logan getting here in time. Distract. Distract and redirect. I need a distraction.
Which is why I’m crouching in a medical supply closet down the hall. There are soothing aromatherapy candles, match boxes withThe Zephyr’slogo on them, massage oils, big bottles ofIsopropyl alcohol, stacks of towels…
Bigglassbottles ofIsopropyl alcohol.
It’s not like I have any experience with explosives, no anarchist bent that makes creating a Molotov cocktail a natural for me, but other than throwing my gun at them, this is what I have.
Stuffing a towel into the biggest bottle of the rubbing alcohol, I scurry back to the alcove across the hall from the clinic’s entrance. My hands are shaking, and like an eejit it takes me three tries with the matches,watching the flimsy things spark and sputter.
The fourth match catches and I light the towel. The muscles in my back spasm as I hurl the flaming bottle at the big picture window at the entrance. The thick glass bottle smashes right through it, sending streaks of fire spraying across the desk and the furniture in the reception area.
The nurse screams, knocking over her chair and racing into the clinic. The fire alarm blares, red lights flashing and I stare at the blaze for a long second, mesmerized by how fast the flames can spread. A little stunned that it worked.
Move it ya eejit!
The emergency exit. I can handle a bottleneck, they can only get through one at a time and I have a gun. Ihaveto do this.
“Mother Mary, I am sorry to be committing violence on these people, but they are bastards. If ye could keep my hand steady it would be much appreciated.” I make the sign of the cross andrun.
Chapter Thirty-Five
In which the world is fire, water, and guns.
Arabella…
The first three people through the emergency exit are wearing white coats. My hand is on the gun, still hidden in my beach bag. I’m standing to the left in the corner, and they’re turning right, so no one notices me until the fourth one, who’s pushing a hysterical old woman in a white gown.
“Where the fuck are the donors!” I yell.
“They’re coming, you know the emergency protocol is to get the clients out first!”
I’m ready to pull my gun until I realize she’s answering me like she thinks I’m one of them. Irritably jerking my head to the right, I snap, “Go on, then!” The next patient’s wheeled out and I’m chanting, “Go, go, go!” like I’m in charge.
The fire suppression system finally kicks in.Goddamnit!
Instantly soaking wet, I shove past the next two people, racing down the clinic’s hallway. The medical staff are busy covering equipment instead of evacuating, now that they know the fire threat is over. Each examination room is empty. Oh, god is she already in the OR?
There. She’s huddled in the corner of a bathroom, wet and shaking. “Carol sweetheart, ye need to come with me now, all right?”
“Who…?” She’s blinking and swaying a bit.
“Did they give ye something? A pill or a shot? Carol it’sme,Arabella.” I rip off my wig and paw at my face, trying to peel the prosthetics off. “See? I’m here. It’s not safe, ye need to come with me, it’s all right.” I’m babbling like an eejit as her expression clears slightly.
“Arabella? Are you in the study, too?”
Nearly sobbing with relief, I grab her hand, pulling her along. “Sure. Aye. Come on now. I’ll take ye somewhere and tell ye all about it.” Her steps are unsteady, those fuckersdidgive her something. Pulling her arm over my shoulder, I squeeze her waist. “We have to go, please, ye have to hurry.”
