His words settle in my chest and balloon with something I haven’t felt in years. Love. Hope. Happiness.
I clear my throat, eyes fixed on the road ahead. The blackened stain on Sera’s street comes into view, ash curling from the wreckage in the wind like a snow flurry, only this is no scene from a snow globe. This is more like a nightmare before Christmas.
Drake shifts, his tone softening. “You know, you’ve run into a lot of fires in your time, Chief. But last night you didn’t run in there to save her.”
My jaw ticks. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He looks out the window at the barrier tape flapping in the wind. “It means you didn’t run in because it was your job. You ran in because you couldn’t imagine life without her.”
I exhale slowly, the truth of it weighing heavy on my shoulders.
“You’re right,” I mutter. “If anything had happened to her?—”
“I know. I feel exactly the same about your sister.”
“But Ember isn’t half your age. It was easy for the two of you.”
“Maybe, but love is love. I had to hold Sera back when she arrived on scene.” He swallows hard. “The first thing she said was ‘Where’s Flint?’ I thought she was gonna run in there after you.”
I chuckle. “She probably would have too.”
We pull up outside what used to be her bungalow. Part of the roof’s gone, her car hidden under a blanket of ash. My throat tightens, lost for words at the aftermath. I don’t want her to see this.
“I have her car keys in my pocket. Would you mind checking it over while I see what I can salvage in the bungalow?”
Drake opens his door. “You got it, Chief.”
I climb out, boots crunching through the frost and ash that coats the pavement. The air still carries the faint tang of smoke, burnt wood, and melted plastic that sticks to the back of your throat.
Christmas lights hang from the gutter, melted into sad little loops of colourless plastic. I duck under the barrier tape and step inside.
The floor creaks beneath my weight, a thin layer of soot coating every surface. My flashlight cuts through the dim light spilling from the open doorway, catching glints of glass and metal where the living room used to be.
I take it slow, careful not to disturb anything. The fire marshal’s yellow tags mark the outlet where it started. The plug socket blistered and warped beyond repair. Right beside it, a pile of ash and tangled wires where her tree once stood.
“Damn.” I run a hand over the back of my neck.
I remember the way she smiled when we strung the lights, her laughter when the star wouldn’t stay straight.
My boots scuff something half buried under the debris. I crouch and pick up a small metal bell ornament with an angel on top, covered in soot, but mostly intact. I wipe away the black soot with my thumb, and a tarnished brass angel smiles up at me. Sun shines through the hole in the roof, and it’s as if her nan is smiling down on me, giving me her blessing. I rarely get choked up, but my vision blurs as a watery film covers my pupils.
“I’ll take care of her, Bessie, I promise you that.” I might not have been able to save her home, but I can give her a new one with me. Carefully, I slip the ornament into my pocket.
“Who you talking to, Chief?” Debris crunches under Drake’s boots as he steps into the living room.
“No one, just myself. How’s the car?”
“Seems fine. Tyres are good and starts okay. I’ll drive it back and wash it down at the station. Luckily, it was parked at the bottom of the drive.”
“Good,” I say, still choked up as I take in the rest of the bungalow and enter the bedroom where the walls are still standing. Her dresser’s scorched but stable. Half her clothes are soaked through; the other half reek of smoke.
Something glints near the nightstand. A small silver locket, the chain twisted and blackened, but the engraving still clear beneath the soot.To my Seraphina, Love, Nan.
My throat tightens
I wipe the metal clean on my sleeve, and open it carefully. Inside, a tiny photo of Sera as a girl, maybe six or seven, grinning toothlessly beside her nan in front of a Christmas tree. Both of them in matching sweaters.
I swallow hard and close it, slipping it into my other pocket.
