Masquerades: Part Seven

     “...fire?” one person repeated at last, and the spell was broken. The entire room dissolved into pandemonium as the guests collectively surged towards the front doors in a cacophony of shrieks and screams.

     James grabbed Deirdre’s arm and began to lead her through the mob, following the others towards the door. Before he’d taken five steps, however, he found his way blocked as the surge abruptly came to a halt.

     Craning his head, the Hissi peered over the crowd and saw why. Despite having dozens of pets pulling and shoving against it, the massive dining room doors remained closed- probably locked from the outside.

     Ignoring the screams and breathless chatter, James looked behind them and saw, to his horror, a flickering red light coming from the open door at the other side of the room. Moving far more quickly than it should have under the circumstances, the fire burst into the room and shot along the walls, blocking windows and moving towards the hysterical crowd at a frightening pace.

     “Mr Nexis!”

     James turned to face the familiar voice as he felt Trix grab his arm. “If you please, Mr Nexis!”

     Nodding, James followed the Nimmo as they began to push their way through the crowd and towards the door. Fighting through the crushing mob, Trix forced a path through the guests as he called back to James.

     “We need to get the door down, Nexis! I can get the lower bolts, but I need a prop to reach the top ones.”

     “Whatever floats your boat,” the Hissi returned.

     With a final kick and push, they reached the front of the door. The force of the panicked crowd behind them was a crushing weight, but James braced himself and held still as Trix leapt onto his shoulder and began to loosen the bolts that held the giant wooden door to its frame.

     “I feel privileged,” James called up to the Nimmo, grinning. “It’s not every day that I get used as a makeshift ladder.”

     “You’re a reporter, Mr Nexis,” the Nimmo replied without taking his eyes off the bolt. “I would have thought you’d be used to being walked on.”

     “Oh, snap!”

     Trix was silent for a second as he struggled with the bolt, but at last there was a quiet snap, and the door wobbled slightly.

     “Okay, I’m done!”

     Trix jumped off from James’s shoulders and gave a tug on the knob. The door was an old fashioned double, meaning that it had two doors which would have normally swung outward. Trix had taken the hinges off the left slab, which now they let fall inwards.

     Glancing behind himself again, James was gave a shocked jolt as he saw how far the flames had come along the outside of the room. Within a few seconds the entire room would be consumed in fire.

     Ignoring the intense heat that was rolling towards him, he helped Trix push back the frantic crowd to let the door fall flat on the ground. Beyond it was a large table that had been used to lock it in place, but the guests didn’t seem to care as they surged forward, towards the hallway and safety. Screaming and shoving, they squeezed themselves over the table as the flames began to spread over the room, catching on tables and chairs.

     James tried to step in to slow and organise the flow of guests, but terror had obviously overtaken them, and the Hissi was shoved roughly aside.

     He fell to the ground and, for a fleeting instant, saw the flash of stampeding feet before someone grabbing him and pulled him out of the way. As he lurched to his feet he turned and smiled in relief. “Deirdre.”

     “Sir.” The Xweetok tugged him up against the wall, where they were in less danger of being trampled. James spared a glance to the other side of the doorway, where Trix was standing, his eyes darting over the frantic crowd, his mouth set in a thin line.

     The warm glow was getting stronger, and to his horror James saw the fire had spread across the roof, showering them in a liberal offering of sparks and embers. Its speed had been uncanny, and the Hissi suspected that the entire room had been doused liberally with a flammable liquid before the ball.

     The last of the larger, slower guests were stumbling through the doorway, and James deemed it safe enough to dodge between them to Trix.

     The Nimmo was looking broody and tense as James reached him.

     “Is everyone out?”

     “No. I didn’t see Lord Winworth leave.”

     James felt the colour drain out of his face as he stared at the empty room. “He’s still in here?”

     Trix was silent as he stared at the flames, scarlet light reflecting over his face. “Go out with the guests. Stay with them. You should be safe there.”

     James blinked at him. “What? You seriously think I’m going to sit out there with a pile of snivelling, pathetic aristocrats while you get to search a flaming building?”

     Trix’s face was firm. “I can’t tell you what to do, Mr Nexis, I can only advise. And I strongly advise you to stay out of this mess, for the sake of your friend if nothing else. Good day.”

     The Nimmo took a handkerchief out of his pocket and left James frowning at Deirdre, as he ran into the thick smoke, holding the cloth to his face.

     “The self-sufficient, insufferable little-!” It took James all of two seconds to come to a decision. “Deirdre, go out and stay with the guests. You should be safe there.”

     “What?” Deirdre objected, looking annoyed, but the Hissi had already followed Trix into the smoke and flames. “Oh, brilliant.”

     Deirdre looked around miserably, blinking ash out of her eyes, and with a resigned sigh pulled a handkerchief out of her bag and followed James.

     The ballroom had been turned into a horrorland of swirling smoke tinged with blood-red and yellow. Gagging on the soot, Deirdre pressed her handkerchief to her nose and followed the muffled sounds she heard. The smoke was disorienting, and she reeled slightly, reaching out for any solid surface. Her paw came in contact with a marble pillar, which, due to the fire, was slightly warm. Coughing and gasping through her handkerchief, she leant against the pillar and listened. Faintly she could hear voices and so, with eyes shut against the smoke and paw stretched out like a blind pet, she stumbled towards the sounds.

     Concentrating on putting her left foot in front of her right- and then vice-versa- without stumbling, the Xweetok jumped slightly when her hand touched the cold steel of a door. She pushed on it, and suddenly found herself in the comparatively smoke-free kitchens.

     The room was arranged in a rectangle, with the centre taken up by a long bench hung with pots and cooking utensils, most of which she didn’t recognise.

     Standing a few feet from the door, in front of the bench, were James and Trix, facing each other and arguing heatedly. Trix looked frustrated, while James seemed more exasperated than anything. Behind them were two seats, back to back, on which sat Lord Winworth and Bobby, tied securely with rope.

     “I specifically said not to follow-”

     “Yeah, well, I can’t remember signing the papers that gave you complete control over me-”

     “That’s not the point, Nexis! This is a dangerous situation-”

     “Like I haven’t worked that out by now.”

     “-and civilians should stay well out of it.”

     “For Pete’s sake-!”

     “Don’t bring Pete into this!”

     “I’LL stop bringing Pete into this if YOU let me help!”

     Somewhere in the ballroom behind them there was a large crack followed by a crash. If Deirdre’s ears served her correctly, part of the roof had fallen in.

     Neither of the arguing pets seemed to notice.

     “I’m telling you, Nexis, get out of the building! You have a responsibility-”

     “Pfft!”

     “-a responsibility,” Trix continued furiously, “to look after the other guests and your friend.”

     “What, Deirdre? Don’t worry about her, she’s safe out... side...?”

     James had just noticed Deirdre standing in the doorway. He sighed.

     “For goodness’ sake, Deirdre! I was just about to win the argument!”

     “Psh.”

     “I was! Don’t try to deny it, Trix!”

     “Excuse me,” Lord Winworth piped up from his seat. “I don’t mean to interrupt, but if you wouldn’t mind, the ropes are putting wrinkles in my jacket.”

     “Sorry,” James and Trix mumbled sheepishly. The Nimmo grabbed a knife from the bench top and knelt to cut the ropes. “I still say you shouldn’t have come.”

     “I’m a reporter, Mr Trix. Breaking rules and disobeying people are the two things I do best.”

     A ghost of a smile hovered around Trix’s mouth. “I thought reporting would have been at the top of the Things I Do Best list.”

     “Nah, it’s stuck down at five-hundred-thirty-eight, right beneath Deep-Sea Diving Without Breathing Apparatus.”

     A faint snap signalled the end of the rope’s struggle against the knife, and Bobby helped Lord Winworth to his feet. “Okay, let’s go.”

     The five pets ran to the door and pushed it open.

     “Oh,” James said, freezing in his tracks.

     A good half of the room had collapsed into a burning, smoking wreck, blocking their exit. The Hissi’s eyes roved over what was left of the room, which was basically a collection of blackened furniture and flames.

     James and Trix glanced at each other and came to the same conclusion.

     “There’s no way we’d be able to get through there,” James said.

     Trix nodded. “We’ll go through the kitchen.”

     They turned around, and James gave a shocked gasp. Standing just two feet away and offering him a murderous glare was a sooty, ruffled pink Lenny.

To be continued...