“You killed Dobson with his own gun, then holed up in your restaurant. The cops surrounded the place, but tragically, they weren’t able to take you alive.”
“And why is that?” I asked.
Instead of answering me, Madeline crooked her finger at Emery. The giant bent down, and Madeline whispered something into her ear. Emery nodded and stepped out of my line of sight. She reappeared less than a minute later holding a cigarette lighter and a bottle with a fat wad of white cotton stuffed into the top. Emery passed the bottle to Madeline, who turned it around so that I could see the label on the expensive liquor.
The irony almost made me laugh—almost.
“Gin to be the end of Gin. I think it’s rather fitting, don’t you?” Madeline purred. “I had Emery bring this and some other supplies along tonight just in case you survived the bull pen. If you had, I was going to toss this inside the cell and watch you burn. You actually gave me the idea, when you were talking about my mother earlier today and how she would have already dispatched you with her Fire magic. You made an excellent point. I was extremely disappointed that you didn’t die in the bull pen, but this will be so much better. So much more satisfying. After all, my mother extinguished most of the Snow family with her elemental Fire. Rather fitting that I’m going to use a similar flame to finally kill you too. Good-bye, Gin.”
She held out the bottle. Emery flicked on the cigarette lighter, bent down, and lit the cotton rag in the top of the gin. Madeline stared at the red flames, which were the same color as her smiling crimson lips, then tossed the Molotov cocktail in through the shattered door.
The bottle of gin exploded against the floor.
* * *
I’d backed out of the way of the bottle and the flames that spewed out from the shattered glass, but a few seconds later another Molotov cocktail sailed in through the open door, this one thrown by Emery, adding more fuel to the fire, so to speak.
I stared at Madeline through the growing flames.
“Cover all the exits,” she told Emery. “Keep her inside. Nobody approaches the building until there’s nothing left but cinders.”
Emery nodded and moved off to do her boss’s bidding. I thought about plowing through the door and taking my chances with Madeline, but she could still kill me with her acid magic. And by this point, the cops had actually started to approach the restaurant, no doubt with even more members of the po-po on the way. I wasn’t getting out of here.
I was going to burn to death inside the Pork Pit.
For a moment, the helplessness, the despair, the absolute certainty of my impending, painful, fire-filled death threatened to overwhelm me. I wobbled on my feet, like Dobson had before he’d dropped to the ground and bled out. But I wasn’t going to have the luxury of a quick death like that. I was going to go up in flames and die screaming, just like Madeline wanted me to—
A small explosion sounded, as the last bit of glass from the first bottle of gin shattered under the growing heat. The flames scorched along the floor, as if they were following the path of the pig tracks back to the restrooms. In an instant, the hungry swath of fire had obliterated the blue and pink marks, the ones I’d walked over a thousand times before.
Cold rage erupted in my heart, icing over my despair. Fletcher had already died in here, been hideously tortured in the very same spot where I was now standing. I hadn’t been able to save him, but I’d be damned if I was going to just lie down and die, especially at the hands of Madeline Magda fucking Monroe.
“Gin! Gin!” Owen screamed in my ear. “What’s happening? We’re almost to the restaurant. Finn and Bria are with me, and Silvio and Xavier are on their way. Just hold on until we get there. Do you hear me? Hold on!”
“Whatever happens, I love you,” I said, watching the flames snake across the floor and start crawling up the sides of the blue and pink booths. “And I love Finn and Bria and everyone else too. Make sure they know that. And whatever you do, don’t give up on me. No matter how bad things seem.”
“Gin, wait—”
I ended the call and slid the phone into my jeans pocket. Owen and the others wouldn’t get here in time, and I couldn’t let their anguish distract me from the things I needed to do now.
A third Molotov cocktail, this one thrown by McAllister, sailed in through the empty door pane. It too exploded and sent even more heat scorching through the restaurant. It wouldn’t be long before the storefront was completely engulfed. The fire would spread through the rest of the building quickly after that, leaving nothing behind but the foundation and the brick walls.
And me—if I was very smart and very, very lucky.
I was calmer now, more in control. I knew what needed to be done. It was the same feint that Fletcher and I had managed, all those years ago, during the hit at the poker game. The principle was the same now as it had been back then. I couldn’t leave the restaurant, but no one could come in and get me either. Only one way to break this stalemate.
Madeline wanted me dead in the worst possible way. The restaurant was on fire, and even if I did stumble out of the building, the cops were waiting outside to shoot me. It was a troubling problem, but the answer was surprisingly simple.
I needed to stay in the Pork Pit.
I needed to surrender to the flames.
I needed to die.
15
Still keeping one eye on Madeline, Emery, Jonah, and the cops gathered outside, I hurried through the storefront, pushed through the double doors, and went into the back of the restaurant, as though I were trying to escape from the heat, smoke, and flames for as long as possible. That was partly true, but I also wanted to fortify my position. Just because Madeline wanted to burn me to death didn’t mean that she wouldn’t send Emery or the cops inside to try to pump me full of bullets first.
So I tipped over a heavy metal rack lined with containers full of sugar, flour, and cornmeal in front of the double doors to keep anyone from coming at me that way. When that was done, I hurried over to the back door. The locks had held, although every once in a while I would hear a ping-ping-ping against the metal. The cops were still outside and still shooting, to keep me trapped inside so the fire could do its work.
So instead of using my Stone magic to harden my skin, opening the door, and making a desperate attempt to escape out into the alley, I went over to the freezer in the back.
The one with all the frozen peas in it—and the body.
Madeline wanted me dead, but she was also smart enough to make very, very sure that her goal had finally been accomplished. She wouldn’t be satisfied with just burning the Pork Pit to the ground. She would want concrete proof of my death.