Page 66 of Prodigal Son

Her foot slipped as she searched for a foothold, but the heat was unbearable. The lattice wasn’t strong enough to support her and she feared her weight might rip it off the house and she’d plummet to her death.

“There’s nothing to hold onto!”

“I’ve got you. Just let go. I won’t let you fall.”

The sirens blared and she caught the flash of lights at the end of the street, but they were still too far away. “The ground’s too far!”

Her aunt turned toward the door, the reflection of flames casting bright shadows over her face. “Juniper, listen to me. You have to do this. A broken arm or leg is better than burning to death, do you understand me?”

Somewhere, in the delirium of the moment, the irony registered. Another generation of witches burned. Was it some cosmic cruelty, an inescapable destiny?

She couldn’t relinquish control. Nothing inside of her had the courage to let go and dangle freely into the spitting flames below. “The firetrucks are almost here.”

“There isn’t time. You can do this.”

“I can’t!”

“You can. You’re stronger than you realize. Now go.” Mabel fed the sheet over the window sill, and Juniper scrambled to hang on.

The siding was too hot to touch. The windows on the first floor exploded, shooting glass onto the street and unleashing hell on earth. The trucks blared closer and the red lights flashed in a strobe. She heard yelling but couldn’t make out a single word as the heat of the fire cooked her clothes and burned her skin.

Aunt Mabel’s face peeked down and then disappeared. It was a moment locked in time, one where Juniper read everything with that single glimpse of panic in her eyes. Then the sheet gave out and pain exploded in her back and arms.

Flames engulfed the second floor, lashing into the sky and swallowing her bedroom window. “Aunt Bel!”

Throbbing splintered up her arm as she struggled to get up. Suited bodies rushed at the house, holding thick hoses and barking out orders. EMTs lifted her onto a gurney, and she fought as they hauled her away.

“My aunt’s in there! We have to go back!” An oxygen mask was forced over her mouth and she shouted and coughed, shoving it away. “Get off me!”

“She’s in shock.”

“I’m not in shock! I need to get to my aunt!”

The hoses unleashed with a roar and the stench of singed wood and ash stole through the night like a noxious fume. People rushed around her, helping and hindering her. Stealing her choices and forcing her down when she needed to get up.

Chaos unfurled as she watched in horror. The house was gone in a matter of minutes. Damaged beyond repair. Moldings singed to black, a scorched wooden skeleton where their sanctuary once stood. No sign of Mabel anywhere.

Juniper shivered in shock.

“Does this hurt.”

“My aunt…” Nothing hurt. She was numb. Vacant emptiness filled her.

The sirens had stopped and a crowd of people gathered at a distance. Only ashes remained.

Officers managed the mob as firefighters drudged through the house, breaking apart fallen rafters and spraying down stubborn flames. The crunch of glass and stench of wet, singed wood was inescapable.

Among the strangers watching from the street, she spotted the familiar hat of an Amish man. Her heart plummeted as their eyes met. He was holding a pocket watch and looking right at her as he snapped it close.

“What time is it?” she wheezed.

The EMT treating her burns glanced at his watch. “A little after one.”

She’d missed his deadline. An hour after midnight and this is what her silence had wrought. Was it a coincidence that he was there or could he have actually done something so destructive? They needed to find Aunt Bel so Juniper could tell her.

“We’ve got something,” someone yelled and Juniper’s head turned, her stomach locking with dread as her eyes blurred under the force of tears.

A gurney went in. Several minutes later, a body bag came out.

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