When Gods Die

Chapter 48

The lane was a confusion of sound, of roaring flames and screaming women and smoke-blackened men, their sweat-slicked faces reflecting the orange glow of the fire as they lined up to form a chain, water sloshing from buckets quickly passed from hand to hand.

Sebastian pushed his way through the crowd, his gaze scanning the flame-licked facade of the old inn. Black ash swirled about him, drifting down like dirty snow. He could feel the heat of the fire against his face, feel it sucking the air from his lungs. As he watched, smoke curled from beneath the door of the little bow-windowed button shop that lay beside the inn. Then the front window exploded and the entire building burst into flames.

A great moan went up from the crowd around him. This was what they all feared, that the fire would spread. It was always a danger in any part of the city. But here, where houses built of dry old timbers leaned toward one another across narrow, twisted streets, one carelessly minded candle could consume an entire district in a night.

Sebastian shifted his attention to the crowd. He expected to find the big black innkeeper at the forefront of the men dashing bucket after bucket on the growing inferno. But Caleb Carter was nowhere to be seen.

Sebastian’s gaze stopped on a tall girl with pale gray eyes and lanky blond hair who stood near the curb. For an instant, her gaze met his. He saw her eyes widen with recognition, her mouth going slack.

She whirled to run. Sebastian was on her, his hand closing hard on her upper arm, jerking her around to face him. “Where’s Carter?” he demanded, hauling her up close to him.

She stared at him, her eyes huge, her nostrils flaring with fear.

He gripped her other arm and lifted her up until her feet barely touched the ground, her head snapping back and forth as he gave her a shake. “Where is he, damn you?”

“The cellars! He said somethin’ about the cellars—”

Sebastian thrust her aside. She stumbled but was off and running before he even turned away.

The fire had yet to work its way down the alley to the back of the inn, although he could hear its warning hiss, smell the acrid tinge of smoke in the sultry air. He found the thick wooden doors to the cellar closed and bolted from within. There would be another entrance, from inside the inn itself, but time was running out. Sebastian grabbed a nearby length of iron and brought it down hard. The wood cracked and splintered.

Someone shouted. “Hey! What you doin’ there—”

Ignoring them, Sebastian kicked in the shattered doors.

The rush of air from the cellars was unexpectedly hot and dry, and already tinged with smoke. For a moment, Sebastian hesitated. If the gunpowder Tom had watched being unloaded was still stored here, Sebastian could be walking into an explosive death. But he didn’t think the men he was dealing with were that careless.

Someone had left a lamp lit in the farthest reaches of the cellar. Sebastian could see the distant, steady glow as he plunged down the worn stone steps. The smoke was thicker here, seeping down through the ceiling boards overhead.

At the base of the steps he paused. The cellar itself was earthen floored. Tall racks of oak barrels and row after row of bottles loomed around him, the air heavy with the rich scents of French wine and brandy overlaid with the stench of burning wood. The sounds of the fire were muffled here, but coming closer. He could hear the distant roar and, from somewhere nearer, an ominous sizzling crackle.

From nearer still came a man’s wet, hacking cough.

Sebastian turned toward the sound, making his way cautiously amidst the towering racks. He found the innkeeper facedown in the earth, his arms flung wide, his legs sprawled. As Sebastian watched, the big man drew his arms beneath him, his weight on his elbows as he struggled to push himself up. The back of his bald head was dark and shiny with blood that trickled down his neck, soaked the white collar of his shirt.

Groaning again, Carter pressed his palms flat to the earth and gave a mighty heave that sent him rolling onto his back. He lay there, his chest jerking with each breath. The blow to the back of his head had obviously stunned him. But what had laid him low and brought a bloody foam to his mouth was the knife someone had thrust between his ribs.

The African’s eyes rolled in his head, his chest heaving again as Sebastian went to kneel beside him.

“You,” said Carter, his face contorting with pain. “What the hell—”

He fell into a fit of coughing. Sebastian slipped his hands beneath the man’s shoulders, raising his head to help him breathe. “Who did this to you?”

Carter’s throat worked as he struggled to force the words out, bloody spittle foaming around his mouth. “F—”

Sebastian leaned closer.

The hot scent of urine filled the air as the black man’s bladder let loose. He was almost gone, his chest jerking as he fought to suck in air. “Fu—”’ His upper lip curled, the light in his dark eyes flickering, fading. “Fuck you,” he said with a rattling gasp. And the light in his eyes went out.

Sebastian eased his hands from beneath the big man’s shoulders and laid the body on the hard-packed earth. The glow in the cellars had taken on an orange tinge. Looking up, Sebastian saw flames licking across the ceiling.

He pushed to his feet. The kegs of gunpowder might be gone, but the cellar’s rich store of brandy would be nearly as inflammable. Sebastian leapt for the stairs, just as the door from the inn’s yard exploded and tongues of fire shot down the steps toward him.