Maria Snyder - Night Study

“Let’s go,” he yelled, diving through the flames dancing in the window. Leif slammed into the ground. The force knocked the wind from him, but he rolled to the side to clear the way for Devlen. He kept spinning to snuff out the fire clinging to his clothes as he gasped for air.

A thud and a curse sounded to his left. Devlen also spun on the ground to extinguish his tunic. Another warning screech reverberated.

“Run!” Leif scrambled to his feet and dashed away.

Devlen followed. They raced from the burning structure as its roof collapsed. A red-hot whoosh of air pushed them forward. Embers and sharp bits of flying debris pelted their backs. Leif stumbled. Devlen grabbed his arm and pulled him upright.

They continued for another fifty feet before collapsing onto the grass. Leif checked his body for flames while his brother-in-law did the same.

“What...the hell...happened?” Devlen panted.

“Booby trap.”

“You sure?”

“Yep.” He drew in a breath. “Owen knew we’d investigate his glass houses. That stack of files was just too tempting. As soon as I opened the top one, it triggered the trap. Bastard left a note, too.”

“What did it say?”

“Gotcha.”

* * *

The horses arrived soon after their narrow escape. They cataloged their injuries. Leif mixed up a poultice for their burns. He bandaged the jagged cuts on his leg from the window’s glass and removed the splinters from Devlen’s back. Draining half his water skin, Leif wiped his mouth with a soot-covered sleeve.

The burning barn polluted the air with thick black clouds. Yet no one arrived to investigate or to help. Odd.

“Owen must have scared his neighbors away,” Devlen said.

By the time they were ready to leave, the structure resembled a pile of scorched lumber. Heat rippled the air above it and an angry orange-red glowed deep inside. Without a water source nearby, they couldn’t douse it. Instead, they rode to the nearest town and contacted the authorities.

Once they explained what had happened, they checked into a local inn. After a bath and a large meal, Leif dragged his battered body up to their room. He stretched out on the bed. Devlen plopped onto the other one. The springs squealed under his weight.

Pain pulsed from Leif’s right leg despite the healing ointment. His raw skin oozed and his throat burned. He felt like a pig who’d been tied to a spit and roasted over a fire. Leif would never eat pork again. Well... At least not for a couple days.

“Are we still going to check those other hothouses?” Devlen asked.

“No. I can’t stop a magical booby trap, and anything could be the trigger.” Leif considered. “I’ll message the locations to Irys tomorrow. Only she or Bain has the power to remove the trap without springing it.”

Disappointment panged. He’d been hoping to discover a clue to Owen’s whereabouts. Now it would be at least half a season before one of the Masters arrived.

“You think Owen had time to rig all ten?”

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