Chapter 6 - THE BODYGUARD’S WATCH
Marcus didn't look like a bodyguard anymore. The stoic, invisible servant was gone, replaced by a man radiating decades of festering hatred. He tossed the gold pocket watch into the center of the nursery floor. It shattered, the tiny gears and springs scattering across the pastel rug.
"My father had a watch just like that," Marcus said, his voice a low, terrifying rumble. "He sold it to buy groceries the week before you bankrupted him, Arthur."
Arthur stepped in front of Leo and Eleanor, squaring his shoulders. "This is between you and me, Marcus. Let them go. The boy has nothing to do with this. And your sister is your own blood."
"She’s a traitor," Marcus spat, his eyes cold and dead. "She forgot the plan. She started playing house with the man who murdered our father."
Marcus raised his hand. The silver lighter flared to life, a small, aggressive flame dancing in the dark.
Arthur smelled it then. The sharp, chemical scent of gasoline. It was seeping beneath the floorboards, soaking into the hall carpet.
"You burned the rest of the house?" Arthur asked, a desperate panic clawing at his throat.
"Just the exits," Marcus smiled. "I’m going to lock this heavy oak door, Arthur. You’re going to sit in this room, surrounded by your daughter's toys, and you’re going to watch everything you love turn to ash. Just like we did."
Marcus stepped back into the hallway and slammed the heavy nursery door shut. The click of the deadbolt locking into place sounded like a gunshot.
Arthur lunged at the door, slamming his shoulder against the solid wood. It didn't budge. He kicked it, his expensive leather shoes doing no damage to the reinforced oak.
"Help me!" Arthur yelled at Eleanor.
But Eleanor was paralyzed, staring at the small wisps of grey smoke beginning to curl under the doorframe.
"He’s really going to kill us," she whispered, her voice entirely devoid of hope.
"I'm not dying here!" Leo shouted, grabbing a heavy wooden toy block and throwing it at the window. It bounced off the thick, storm-proof glass.
Arthur grabbed a heavy brass floor lamp, ripping the cord from the wall, and swung it like a baseball bat against the window. The glass splintered, spider-webbing across the pane, but held firm.
The smoke was thickening, turning the air acrid and gray. Arthur coughed, dropping to his knees to breathe the cooler air near the floor. He looked at Leo, the boy’s eyes wide with terror. He had to get him out. He had promised this boy safety.
"Eleanor!" Arthur coughed, grabbing her shoulders and shaking her violently. "Where is the emergency release for the windows? You designed this room!"
Eleanor blinked, snapping out of her trance. She looked at Arthur, then at Leo. A profound, tragic clarity washed over her face.
"They don't open from the inside," she said softly. "To prevent Lily from falling."
Arthur felt his heart stop.
"But the door hinges," Eleanor said, dropping to the floor beside him. She reached into the pocket of her silk robe and pulled out a heavy, iron fireplace poker she must have brought upstairs with her. "They are on the inside. If we smash the pins out, the door falls."
Arthur grabbed the poker, his hands blistering from the rising heat of the floorboards. He wedged the iron tip under the bottom hinge and struck it with the brass lamp base. The pin moved a fraction of an inch.
Outside the door, the roar of flames grew deafening.
Suddenly, Arthur’s cell phone vibrated in his wet pocket. He pulled it out, squinting through the stinging smoke. It was the hospital. Dr. Evans.
May you like
Arthur answered, putting it on speaker over the roar of the fire.
"Arthur," Dr. Evans's voice crackled, frantic and loud. "Lily’s heart is failing. The toxin is attacking her nervous system. We need to know exactly what the compound is, or she won’t survive the hour."
