Imdalind 01 - Kiss of Fire

you. I have to… I have to keep you safe Joclyn. I can’t lose you.”
    “I can’t leave you.” I knew I couldn’t; my body screamed at me not to go.
    “If we go together, they will hunt us down like dogs. I need to fight them, to give you time to escape.”
    “Fight?”
    “I will find you, Joclyn. I promise. Just go to Ilyan; he will protect you.” He moved his eyes away from mine to press his lips against my forehead, the connection spreading his familiar warmth through my body. It spread through me, stretching to my toes; it filled every part of me with a calm determination, my fear vanishing behind it.
    He dragged me to the door, his back straight and his muscles flexing. His hand held mine, neither of us willing to let go. He pressed a small key ring into my other hand.
    “To my car, to your mom, to Ilyan.” he repeated. “Say it.”
    “To your car, to my mom, to Ilyan.” My voice was small and shaky despite my new-found determination.
    “Good. And, no matter what you do, do not take off the necklace.”
    The door opened before us, without anyone having touched it. I could hear many running feet through the hallways, the sound getting louder as they moved closer. My heart beat faster in its attempt to escape my chest.
    “Run, Joclyn,” Ryland pleaded. “Don’t look back. Run!”

Fifteen

    I ran down the hall, a man’s voice yelling behind me. His angry shout ricocheted off the ivory colored walls, echoing in my ears. That one shout was followed by what sounded like a hundred others, but I knew that couldn’t be right.
    “Leave her alone!” Ryland’s voice was like a magnet to my heart. It took all of my will power to not turn around and to just keep running.
    “What have you done, Son?” Edmund’s cold voice was a palpable thing; its mass, its anger, hitting my back with a tangible force.
    I ran to the door of the servants’ corridors and swung the door open, slamming it behind me. I didn’t stop to see if it closed; I didn’t stop for one last look at Ryland. I just ran. My feet moved forward of their own accord, taking the steps two or three at a time as I fled down a level toward the garage where Ryland’s car was parked. I had moved about halfway down the staircase when the whole building rocked under my feet.
    I was thrown into the metal hand-railing as an explosion shook the building, the loud booming of who-knows-what resounding around me. I stopped and looked back. My heart begged me to go to him, to save him. But what could I do against all those men? What could I do against explosions? I clenched my fist around the key in my hand, the plastic cover pressing into my skin.
    I couldn’t go back and help him, I couldn’t. I had to do what he asked. “To the car, to my mom, to Ilyan.”
    I burst through the final door into the large garage and looked among what appeared to be hundreds of cars for the yellow Lotus. I spotted it on the far side of the garage and began to move through the vehicles toward the expensive sports car ahead of me. I had only made it partway through the garage when another explosion rocked the space around me. This one was bigger than the last one. I screamed out in fear as I slammed into a turn-of-the-century Ford; pieces of plaster falling from the low ceiling above me.
    I picked up my pace, trying to ignore the constant rumble on the floors above. I made it to the car and threw myself in, starting the engine. It roared to life and the garage door opened in front of me, the sound of the engine its cue to rise.
    I gunned it.
    Ryland had taught me to drive this car almost a year ago, but I hated to because I could never keep the speed reasonable; being behind the wheel felt like I was in the middle of a video game. My heart rate sped up even faster as adrenaline added itself to my fear. I tore out of the garage and down the street, the odometer reaching 130 miles per hour in just the first few seconds.
    I caught a glace of Ryland’s house as I drove in front of it. The third floor was in flames. I wanted to stare; I wanted to call the police; I wanted to do something. But, Ryland’s instructions echoed through my ears: his warning of what his father would do to me. I straitened my resolve and turned the corner. If I stayed at this speed, I could get home in five minutes. The challenge would be to avoid traffic and the cops.
    I struggled to keep my speed high, but once I made it into the city, I was faced with traffic lights and other cars. It was