Prologue: Nico
Eighteen Years Ago
The smoke’s so thick I can barely see the carpet beneath my feet as tiny embers of ash and flame drift down from the fire-drenched ceiling and I cry out as Mom slaps my back, dousing the flames on my shirt.
A bone-deep ache covers my spine, and I cough and gag and spit, but Mom keeps tugging me harder toward the window. She’s scared, and I’m scared and in pain, and the fire’s getting closer and I don’t know what to do.
Mom clutches my hands between her own. “You need to jump, baby.”
We’re in the extra bedroom on the second floor. She pushes me toward the window at the far side.
“Jump? Mom, I can’t, it’s too high.” I want to argue more but I start coughing.
Mom shakes me roughly. “Nico, baby, there’s no other way. The fire’s too bad back there and it’s only the second floor. You have to do it.”
“Where’s Dad? What happened? I heard yelling and then some fireworks went off—”
“Nico, listen to me.” Mom grabs my shoulders and stares into my eyes. She’s terrified and I know she’s trying not to cry. I’ve never seen someone so scared before, and the fact that it’s my mom drives it deep into my core like a red-hot knife.
Where’s Dad and why is there such a huge fire?
Tears cut gray streaks down Mom’s smoke-drenched face so I try to be brave for her.
“You have to jump,” she says, shaking me slightly. “Do you understand me? Please, baby. When I say so, you jump.”
I love my parents. I love my house, and my room, and my videogames. Mostly my videogames. But I love the comfortable world they build me, the woods nearby, the stream deep beyond the trees, the bushes and the flowers. I love it all—and I’m so afraid I’m about to lose it.
I just don’t understand what’s going on. Daddy’s missing and Mom’s freaking out, and the fire’s getting worse. Where’s Dad? Why aren’t there fire engines coming? I don’t hear sirens or anything, just the wild blaze and crackle of flames everywhere. There are men downstairs shouting in a language I don’t recognize. I can’t understand a word they’re saying, and Mommy seems so afraid.
Mom pushes me aside and wrenches open the window. We both hang out of it, coughing hard and sucking clean air into our lungs. Deeper in the house, someone screams and yells and another loud bang goes off.
It’s a firework, or a gunshot, or a firework.
I’m dizzy and the forest beyond our house looks infinite in the night. Down below, Mom’s rose bushes seem to glow in the full moon.
“What’s going on, Mommy? I don’t understand. Who are those men downstairs?”
“Your father made a mistake. He did something stupid and now we’re paying for it.” Her eyes are wide and wild. “He never should’ve gotten involved with them. I told him again and again, don’t get involved, but he insisted. He said he could control it. He made things more complicated, and now we’re paying the price.”
“Who, Mommy? Who’s downstairs?”
“I don’t know, baby. I don’t know who they are.” She hugs me tight and turns me toward the window. “You have to climb out. Go ahead, I’ll help.” Mom pushes me and I stumble forward. I grab the cold ledge and hoist myself up on shaking arms. I grip the ledge so hard my fingers turn white and I feel the wood and vinyl cut into my skin. It hurts and I want to cry, but Mom’s crying so I can’t right now. I have to be strong for her, right? “Dangle like that. Good baby, good. Just hold on and when I say drop, you drop, okay?”
“Mom, I’m scared. It’s too far.”
“You can do it. Be brave, baby.”
The door opens behind her. I hear it swing in and thump against the wall. More smoke pours out the window and I try to pull myself up to look but I’m not strong enough. Mom says something—Get away from us, you monster—but I’m not sure what I hear. There’s another scream, and Mom’s hanging out, staring down at me with wild eyes.
“Drop, baby! Go! Run!”
Someone grabs the back of her neck and yanks her back inside.
I let go and drop. I fall fast and land hard in some bushes, and a thick branch tears a deep and nasty gash down the side of my face. Pain lances through my knees and my ankle, and I collapse to the ground, groaning with fear.
Above, my mother screams.
I stay there trembling. I’m in so much pain and my face is bleeding all over. I don’t know what’s happening—where’s Mom? Why hasn’t she followed yet?
More fireworks go off upstairs. Another scream, this time I know it’s my mom, and I know those aren’t actually fireworks.
They’re gunshots.