Divine Rivals (Letters of Enchantment, #1)(100)

“I don’t know, Kitt.”

He nodded his disappointment, reaching for his jumpsuit. She helped him step into it, her fingers swiftly buttoning up the front, cinching the belt. She wished they had more time. She wished they could have woken up slowly, and her hands shook as she struggled to hook her bra. Roman stepped forward to help her, his fingers warm against her back. He was fastening the buttons of her jumpsuit when a knock sounded on the door.

“Iris? Roman?” Attie called. “Marisol is asking us to come down to the kitchen. Don’t touch any of the curtains. Eithrals have been spotted, heading to town.”

“Yes, we’ll be right down,” Iris said, her blood going cold.

There had been no siren. And then she remembered that Clover Hill was gone. A shudder passed through her as Roman finished buttoning her clothes and buckling her belt. They quickly laced their boots.

“Let’s go,” he said, and he sounded so calm that it eased Iris’s fears.

He wove his fingers with hers and led her down the stairs. She could tell his leg was still bothering him, even as he tried to hide it. There was a slight limp in his gait as they walked into the kitchen. Iris was beginning to wonder if he’d be able to run through the streets and climb over the barricades, but she chased those thoughts away as they joined Attie by the table.

“Good morning,” she said, Lilac purring in her arms. “I hope the two of you lovebirds had a good night’s rest.”

Iris nodded. She was about to thank Attie for all her help yesterday when the house suddenly rocked on its foundation. A splitting boom shook the walls and the ground, and Iris fell to her knees, hands clapped over her ears. She didn’t even remember ripping her fingers from Roman’s. Not until he knelt behind her on the kitchen floor and drew her into his arms, holding her back against his chest.

He was saying something to her. His voice was low but soothing in her ear. “We’ll get through this. Breathe, Iris. I’m here and we’ll get through this. Breathe.”

She tried to calm her breaths, but her lungs felt locked in an iron cage. Her hands and feet were tingling; her heart was pounding so hard she thought it would split her open. But she slowly became aware of Roman. She could feel his chest against hers—deep, calm draws of air. Slowly, she mimicked his pattern, until the stars that danced at the edges of her vision began to fade.

Attie. Marisol. Their names shot through Iris’s mind like sparks, and she lifted her chin, searching the kitchen.

Attie was on her knees directly across from them, her mouth pressed into a tight line as Lilac screeched in fear. Everything was trembling. Paintings fell off the walls. The pot rack shook. Herbs began to rain down. Teacups shattered on the floor.

“Marisol,” Iris panted, reaching for Attie’s hand. “Where is Mari—”

Another bomb fell. A loud peal of thunder not that far away, because the house shook even harder, down to its roots. The timber beams overhead groaned. Plaster from the ceiling began to fall in chunks around them.

The B and B was going to collapse. They were going to be buried alive.

The fear burned thorough Iris like a coal. She was trembling, but she breathed when Roman breathed, and she held fiercely to Attie’s hand. She closed her eyes, envisioning the night before. A wedding in the garden. Flowers in her hair. A dinner of candlelight and laughter and nourishing food. That warm feeling, like she had finally found her family. A place where she belonged. A home that was about to crumble.

Iris opened her eyes.

Marisol was standing a few paces away. Her revolver was holstered at her side, the dash-packs in her hand. Her dress was red, a striking contrast to her long black hair. She was like a statue, staring into the distance as the house rocked for the third time.

Dust streamed down. The windows cracked. The tables and chairs inched along the floor as if a giant was pounding the earth.

But Marisol didn’t move.

She must have felt Iris’s gaze. Through the chaos and devastation, their eyes met. Marisol slowly knelt beside Roman and Attie, their bodies creating a triangle on the kitchen floor.

“Have faith,” she said, touching Iris’s face. “This house will not fall. Not while I’m within it.”

Another bomb exploded. But it was as Marisol swore: the B and B shuddered, but it didn’t crumble.

Iris closed her eyes again. Her jaw was clenched, but she envisioned the garden, the life that grew within it. Small and seemingly fragile, yet it flourished more and more with each passing day. She envisioned this house with its many rooms and the endless people who had come and found solace here. The love that this ground had been claimed by. The green castle door that had seen sieges of an older era. The way the stars shined from the rooftop.

The world was becoming silent again.

A heavy, dust-laden silence that made Iris realize the air was warmer. The light shone brighter through the seams in the walls.

She opened her eyes. Marisol stood amid the debris, glancing at her wristwatch. Time felt distorted, the seconds spilling through fingers like sand.

“Stay here,” Marisol said after what could have been two minutes or a full hour. She glanced at the three of them, a dark fire shining in her eyes. “I’ll return soon.”

Iris was too shocked to say anything. Attie and Roman must have been the same, because they were quiet as Marisol departed.

“Iris,” Attie said a few moments later, her voice strained, “Iris, we can’t … we have to…”