Beth keeps reading and Amos goes to Gemma’s bedside, picking up a bucket and switching it out with a new one.
“We got a confession out of the demon,” Amos tells me. “We know all about you. Controlling fire is something the devil can do.”
“Give me some water and let me try to turn it into wine then. Maybe it’ll sway you the other way.” Neither Beth nor Amos find it funny.
“Ace is a good person,” Gemma says weakly. “She saves people. Puts killers behind bars. She saved me.”
“Did she? Or did she save the demon inside of you?”
“You people are fucking nuts.” I clench my fist and turn my wrist, giving the ropes another tug. They’re around me tightly and aren’t budging. If I could start the fire I’d be out of here in no time, and the frustration builds inside of me. My fingertips start to feel hot. Shit.
“Look…let me go. Let Gemma go. And we’ll walk away and you won’t hear from us again. And I won’t have you arrested,” I lie. “Scout’s honor.”
Amos ignores me and grabs a leather bag from the cellar steps. He pulls out a jar of what I’m guessing is holy water and unscrews the lid. So much for not being tortured.
“You’ve let the devil inside of you, and I can get him out. Send him back to hell. But if you show yourself, demon, we can make a deal.”
“You’re wasting your time,” I mumble, and pull my wrist again. I’m bleeding now, gritting my teeth so hard it hurts my jaw. Don’t catch on fire. Don’t catch on fire. Don’t catch on fire…
Amos steps back, and Beth keeps reading. My new plan is to wait until they leave, and then thrash my arms and legs until the ties come loose or the chair breaks and hope I don’t catch myself on fire along the way.
She reads for what feels like hours, going over verse after verse that condemns witchcraft. Beth moves closer to Gemma, face tightening with fear. I’m not sure what she thinks is going to happen, but Gemma looks so weak and pitiful right now. She couldn’t hurt a puppy even if she tried.
“Please stop,” Gemma cries. “I’m not possessed. I can’t make your crops grow.”
“You partook in black magic and let the devil inside.”
“No. I didn’t. I promise. I didn’t.” She shakes her head, wrapping her blanket tighter around her shoulders. “You know me, Uncle Amos. I’m not a bad person.”
“You weren’t.”
“I left so I could help others. I’m a nurse now.”
Amos looks away and Gemma coughs so hard she almost throws up.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” I yell. “She’s going to die down here. Do you want that?”
Beth stops reading, looking up with tears in her eyes. “Amos, maybe we should—”
“No!” he shouts. “If the elders find out we brought her back in this…in this state, you know what will happen.”
“Fuck the elders,” I say, yanking on the ropes again. “Your niece is going to die!”
Amos rounds on me and I’m so fucking pissed but trying hard not to feel the flames leave my fingers. My entire hand is burning hot, and I squeeze my eyes closed in an attempt to curb the fire.
And then Amos screams. My eyes fly open and I see fire. At first I think Beth dropped her lantern. But she didn’t. It’s on the ground next to her, perfectly intact.
Flames shoot up around Amos’s feet, and he madly runs around in an attempt to put them out. Beth screams and cries, and Gemma throws her blanket at Amos, telling him to smother the flames. In his panic, he knocks into Beth. She drops the lantern and oil spills out, igniting the flames coming from Amos’s feet.
He jumps back, tripping over the blanket and falling hard to the ground. The fire around his feet smokes and goes out, but the fire from the spilled oil burns hotter and brighter. It’s blocking the way to the stairs, and the flames inch closer to the line of kerosene poured on the ground.
I don’t know much about kerosene fires. I think it burns slower and less intensely than a gasoline fire, but the flames will travel wherever the oil has been spilled. And one of those intentional spills leads right up to me.
“Fucking shit,” I curse, giving the ropes another tug. I kick at the ground, trying to cover the line of oil leading to the chair with dirt. The flames are high but not touching the ceiling. Not yet. If the ceiling catches on fire, we’re all dead.
If the walls catch on fire, we’re dead.
And if the oil just burns on the dirt floor and doesn’t catch anything else on fire…we’re probably still dead because of the fumes.
