Chapter 2

TWO

Phoenix

I was no stranger to blood and gore, but my stomach turned at the sheer amount of it as I walked into the elaborate dining room. Men lay where they had perished, blood oozing from every orifice in their tortured faces.

Stepping over a body, I glanced up through the glass eye pieces of my mask, the group of living people shifting awkwardly in the circles of my vision.

The tip-tap of blood and wine dripping from the dining table were the only sounds in the room, the air heavy with expectation. A bloated, putrefying body lay amongst the broken dishes, his arm hanging off the edge, almost outstretched toward me as if begging for help.

I hoped he deserved it.

I hoped they all did.

It wasn't my place to judge. Just to cover up the evidence with fire.

And I was good at remaining in my place. I'd learned it well enough.

I had three rules while under the employ of whomever required my unique services.

One: Burn it all. Two: Leave no witnesses. Three: Ask no questions.

It was always the same. I took the money and left them with nothing but flames and charcoal.

‘What do you think?' Ewen McGowan, a member of Scotland's leading crime family, asked me. I tipped my head toward him and considered the job. The house was large, but suitably isolated. It would take a little while for the authorities to be called. I'd need to use more accelerant than usual and throw open the doors and windows, allowing the flames to rampage through the home like a herd of wild boars, ripping apart everything in their wake.

It was doable.

I loved a challenge.

I nodded once at Ewen. I'd worked with his family enough to know that he was good for the fee, and wouldn't give me any trouble paying it.

‘How long?' he asked.

Flashing my hand four times to signal twenty minutes, I gave one more nod and left the small band of the living to see themselves out.

Navigating the luxurious country cottage, I opened every door and smashed through all the windows with my key's windscreen breaker, glass shards bouncing off my leather jacket. A fully prepared canvas always sped up the burning process and ensured thoroughness. As my uncle had often warned me, an ill-prepared man is set up to fail—one of the few useful nuggets amongst the beer swill and fists.

Shrugging my backpack down over my arms was a chore with my thick jacket, but eventually, I wrestled it to the floor and pulled out a jar of accelerant. My gas mask stifled the acrid scent rising from the jar, but from using it so often over the years, my mind filled in the missing information, and I scrunched up my nose anyway. Pulling on a set of latex gloves, I set about smearing the thick paste liberally around the home. I must have used half of the jar in the desecrated dining room alone. With all the bodies there, I had to be sure they went to nothing but blackened shards and pieces of bone by the time the police could get in after the fire had burned out.

Kicking a limp arm out of the way, I smeared the accelerant over the faces and fingertips of each body, ensuring the flames would gobble up the last vestiges of their humanity with fervour.

At last, the scene was set. A warmth seeped through my body as I pulled out a match and held it up in front of me. Such an insignificant little thing to cause so much chaos and destruction. Was there anything else in the world so small and simple that could wreak so much havoc?

Tingles crept through me as I placed the red head against the rough edge of the matchbox. With a shaky breath, I surveyed the room one last time. Everything was so still and quiet. If it weren't for all the blood, it could almost have been peaceful.

The scratch of the match head was the only sound before it crackled alight. Time slowed to nothing while I dropped it, watching as it crashed to the floor next to an unmoving leg. Orange glittered and blossomed. Flames spread eagerly from that one point, licking at the body closest to it.

Adrenaline pumped as the room lit up. Fear. Memories. The reminder of the flames licking at my skin. I courted the pain for a moment before retreating. The fire was growing by the second, raging through the space and devouring everything within its path.

The fear has controlled me for so many years, but now I controlled it.

I am the flames' master. It does as I demand of it.

Yet, like so many beasts, if I didn't watch myself, it would happily consume me as readily as any other fuel.

I reached the front door and stepped outside, the house burned behind me, great orange flames cascading high into the dark night sky.

One of the group who'd hired me stood amongst the trees, a yellow glow flickering across his face as he watched me wide-mouthed.

I gave him one last nod before someone tugged him away through the trees.

I headed to my bike, waiting nearby, pausing for a moment beside it to admire my handiwork tearing through the building. I removed my mask and ran a hand through my sweat-slicked hair, allowing the cool night breeze and the warmth coming off the blaze to whisper over my naked face. Inhaling, my eyes close as I let the familiar sensation toy with me. A few moments later, I pulled on my lower face mask, covering everything below my eyes before sliding my helmet over my head.

With the flames lighting the surrounding area, I kicked my bike into action, the rev of the engine failing to compete with the terrific roar of the inferno behind me. The way the raging inferno danced in the chrome of my bike was mesmerising.

Reluctant to leave the glorious sight, I drove off into the night.