Don’t think about it.
How could he not when he was forced to stare at the mask while he worked? A mask that made him remember the scars it covered. And there were so many of them. Scars that twisted his lips and made his eye droop. Scars that ran down the side of his nose and across his cheeks.
And the one of Pip’s name showing through his beard as plain as the writing on his monitor.
His head throbbed from the eyestrain of trying to catch up. And then it started…
That irritating jerk.
Closing his eyes, he pressed his finger against his eyelid, trying to will them to stop. Still they spasmed and twitched. The motion made him queasy. But most of all, it made him blind.
Damn it! It was the most irritating thing and it wasn’t helped by the addition of a sudden nosebleed.
Great. Just great. What next?
Just don’t let me have to go to the bathroom. He couldn’t take any more of his broken body. He was tired of being in pain all the time. Of having to fear the next round of What’s Going To Piss Me Off Now.
As he reached for another tissue to replace the one that was already saturated, something crashed through the window on his right and exploded.
Trying to focus his jerking gaze, it took him a second to figure out what it was. Faster than he could move, fire spread up the wall, setting off alarms and sprinklers.
Crap! It was an attack and he’d left his blaster upstairs.
Darling held his breath as he tried to get to the door. Something easier said than done while his eyes kept jerking. Everything shifted and moved which disoriented him even more. Worse, his eyes and skin burned from the fumes.
In that moment, he realized what had been shot into his office. Fledon. A nasty little chemical that was lethal when inhaled.
He pushed the controls for the door.
It didn’t move.
What the hell?
As part of the fire system, the doors were supposed to spring open automatically whenever the room was occupied to keep from trapping anyone inside the office.
Panic set in as he realized that someone had intentionally blocked them and reset the sensors. He reached for his link only to remember that he’d left it in the bedroom this morning. He’d been so preoccupied with setting up Zarya’s link that he’d forgotten all about his own.
His eyes burning even worse, he pressed the alarm for his guards.
Why weren’t they coming?
Because they want you to die…
For all he knew, one of them could have locked the doors and sent the Fledon in.
Coughing, he pulled his knife out to try and pry the doors apart.
The blade snapped in half.
His head swam as he felt the poison invading his body. Unable to fight it and his dancing eyesight, he pounded against the door, trying to call out for help. But his damaged voice wasn’t loud enough to be heard over the fire.
Maris and Zarya were upstairs. They’d never make it down here in time.
I’m going to die.
And there was nothing he could do to stop it.
Look on the bright side. At least she’s not outside your doors, laughing this time.
It was sad when that thought actually did comfort him.
Coughing and choking, he hit the floor a moment before everything went dark.
13
Maris finally had Zarya laughing again as he told her stories about his older brother who was a clumsy pyrotech.
They’d just reached Darling’s office to make sure he’d eaten when they heard a loud crash inside. Rushing forward, Maris tried to open the door, but it refused to budge.
He pulled back with a curse. “The door’s jammed.”
Her heart pounded as she heard Darling on the other side, trying to get out, and she smelled smoke.
“Where’s the release?” Zarya asked.
“Just tried it. It’s jammed, too.” Maris started coughing from the noxious smoke that filled the hallway, then his face went pale. “You smell that?”
Yes, she did.
Cursing, she looked around the hallway, trying to find something fast as she wrapped the scarf on her dress around her mouth and nose. They only had a few minutes before that poison killed Darling.
Her gaze went to the stairs.
That was it…
She ran to the huge table in the foyer where there was an oversize lead vase of fresh cut flowers. Without breaking stride, she seized it, dumped the flowers and water out of it, then slammed the vase into the balustrade as hard as she could.
The iron spindle didn’t budge. Shrieking in outrage, she summoned every ounce of strength she had and slammed the vase down again and again on the balustrade. Break, damn you, break!
Finally, the wood cracked. Yes! She dropped the vase and kicked one of the iron spindles out of the balustrade. Seizing the spindle, she ran back to the wall beside the door and used it to break open the plaster and expose the wiring beneath.