Starling (96 page)

found the windowsill. She had to pull herself back up onto it. She
had to pull Falco from the burning building.
Flames danced and smoke poured from the opening as Cass
struggled her way back onto the window ledge. “Falco?” she croaked
out, one last time.
No answer.
Her chest burned, as if she had drunk a vial of acid, and her throat
started to swell. She gasped for air. A great gust of heat blew outward
from the window, and Cass fell back to the street. A curtain of fire
poured from the building and up into the sky, its light so bright, it cut
through the smoke. The air shook with the sound of thunder. No.
The workshop was beginning to crumble. Chunks of stone fell to the
street around her. She covered her head with her hands, her legs curling up to protect her vital organs.
Waves of searing heat engulfed her as wooden beams crashed to
the street and stones continued to fall. And then Cass felt a hand on
her shoulder. Her eyes burned so badly that she could barely distinguish the rough outline of a figure with blond hair. “Luca?” She
sucked in a breath of scalding air and then coughed violently. Somehow, he had found her.
Fate,
a voice whispered. Smoke melded with
floating embers, with dust from the crumbling stone. Now there were
two, no three Lucas hovering above her. He reached out to brush her
hair back from her face and Cass felt her body go limp. The last thing
she remembered was his brown eyes looking down at her, studying
her with concern.