Chapter 1 - The Burning Walls
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Smoke bled through the cracks in the old oak paneling. The smell of gasoline was heavy, coating Clara’s throat in a thick, metallic film. She held her breath, pressing the boys closer to her chest.
"Shh," Clara breathed, her lips brushing Oliver’s warm forehead.
Flames roared to life in the nursery, casting a violent, flickering orange light through the wooden slats. The heat was immediate, turning the hidden passage into an oven. Clara knew she couldn't stay. The old Victorian vent led downward, but the stairs were steep and completely dark.
With Owen tucked securely in the crook of her left arm and Oliver against her right shoulder, Clara began to descend. Her stockinged feet slipped on the dust-slicked wood, her heart pounding a frantic rhythm against her ribs.
Above her, the nursery floor collapsed with a deafening crash. The sound of splintering wood and shattering glass masked the quiet whimpers escaping Oliver’s lips. Clara stumbled on the final step, her knee slamming hard into the stone foundation of the basement. She bit her lip to keep from crying out, tasting blood.
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The passage opened into the estate’s wine cellar. The air here was cool, smelling of damp earth and aging oak. Clara moved through the shadows, avoiding the main service doors. She reached the old coal chute at the far end of the cellar, her muscles screaming in protest as she forced the rusted latch open with one hand.
The cold night air hit her face like a physical blow. She crawled out into the muddy grass, pulling the babies with her. Behind her, the Costello estate was a towering inferno, painting the midnight sky in jagged strokes of red and gold. She didn't look back. She ran into the woods.
