62

I didn’t hesitate to take off at a run and left Clay to take care of Wes as I weaved through the house and slid into the pitch-black kitchen.

“—three, two,” I whispered, and the kitchen lit up with lightning to expose the empty room. “Where are you, Blossom?” I tried to rack my brain for possible places. My fingers drummed on the counter as I did a slow scan of the room in the darkness.

The bathing room. She had said it was one of her favorite places. I just needed to find my way back to it without her help. Easier said than done. Instant regret flooded me. I should have grabbed a blanket or something. It was only growing colder as I sprinted through the house. The frost followed with every step. It coated the floors and splintered up from the baseboards, crawling toward me as I ran.

“Florence?” I called out, over thunder so loud it sounded like the storm was within the Manor's walls. “God damnit.” I stopped, turned around again, and stared at either end of the dark hallway. I also should have just taken the fucking gun.

My hands shook at my sides as I tried to place myself in my memories and remember the direction she had led us. But I had been too focused on the way her hand felt curved into my arm and the sound of her voice when she talked. I couldn’t remember if we had gone left or right .

“Left.” I shrugged, taking the chance and sliding around the corner to face the bathing room doors. The pool was just as dark as the rest of the house but with an eerie glow from the moon and clouds pouring through the glass roof. The rain beat against the panels and echoed so loudly that it was hard to hear anything through the wall of noise.

“Four,” I counted down through the thunder, and a flash of lightning lit up the room as I finished the count. “Florence!” I called out to her.

There she was in the stark white light of the flash, her figure frozen, unmoving. She was naked and soaking wet, standing in the middle of the pool. I could see that her lips were blue from where I stood.

“Hey!” I shouted for her but she didn’t look at me. Her eyes were unfocused and startlingly dark, black . The lightning bathed the room in white as it reflected off the pool and the glass, illuminating everything in a cold blue hue.

“Fuck.” I dropped down into the pool when she didn’t answer me, not bothering to strip from my clothes and grateful for my urgency when the freezing water bit into my skin like razor blades.

The water had begun to freeze over. Thin ice crystalized at the corners of the pool, stretching in tendrils toward her in the center. When I finally waded over to her she was frigid to the touch but her gaze didn’t focus when I pressed my hand to her cheek.

“Florence?” I whispered urgently, pushing her wet hair away from her frozen skin.

Her lips were so cold that, at first glance, I thought they might be trembling, but–no, she was talking . Her voice was so low that it was inaudible over the sound of the crashing rain and thunder. Alarmed, I wrapped my arms around her rigid body and dragged her against my chest, going as fast as I was able through the water which was still infuriatingly slow despite the effort. When I finally made it to the stairs I lifted her fully into the cradle of my arms and took off.

“Clay!” I screamed as I jogged back through the house. My fingers dug into her to keep a tight hold on her, my heart raced and something made me feel like if I didn’t hang on tight enough she could be ripped away from me. Her skin was so cold I worried my fingers might crack through her flesh against the weight of her frozen and wet body. The chill had begun to set against my bones through my soaked jumper and I wasn’t sure how long I could stay on my feet. “Clayton!” I hollered louder this time, my voice breaking as I stumbled.

My legs were numb and I couldn’t feel my feet, but I had to get her to them.

Clay appeared at the base of the stairs with his gun raised, only to shove it back in his pants the instant he saw me and who was in my arms.

“Give her to me,” he demanded and, as much as I wanted to refuse, to keep her close, to tell him I could manage… my throat was frozen through, and my lips were too numb.

“It's…” I tried to speak, but my lungs were full of ice. “It's too…”

“I know, Wes got a fire started,” he said, scooping beneath my arms and taking her weight from me. “Get those clothes off!”

I followed behind him, stumbling up the stairs in stiff motions, my hands sticking to the railing as I went, stinging my skin as the flesh pulled from the wood freezing to it. I stripped slowly from my clothing like I was made of tar, each step harder to take, each piece of clothing harder to remove. My muscles ached from the drop in temperature but, as I made it into the bedroom, I finally got free of the sweater and my trembling fingers worked on the band of my sweats.

“Here,” Wes said to Clay, clumsily sliding from the bed and pulling back the sheets for Florence.

The fire on the west wall was roaring and it took all my energy to get there but I sunk against the floor as close to the flames as I could get and let them lick at my skin. I rolled onto my knees and drank in the warmth, focusing my eyes on the bed.

“Is she?...” I asked, horrified for the answer.

Clay layed her onto the bed; she looked so small and so frail. Wes stood off to the side, off-kilter and digging through his duffle bag. He threw a shirt at Clay, who caught it without looking up. He weaved Florence’s arms into it before covering her with all the blankets on the bed.

“It’s not going to be enough,” he mumbled but, before he could figure out a solution, Wes was free of his shirt, sliding into the blankets behind her and pulling her body against his.

“I’m the warmest one in the room,” he grumbled. “I’m still running a fever.”

Clay nodded with his lips pressed tightly together. “And you?” He turned to me.

“I’ll survive,” I whispered with chattering teeth. I could see tinges of blue slowlyreceding from the tips of my fingers. The fire was blazing and, through my frozen fog, I noticed the broken legs and seat of an ornate chair. The rest of it was in a smashed pile of jagged pieces next to the mantle. Wes really did get the fire going.

“Where the hell was she?” He asked .

“The bathing room. She was just standing in the middle of the pool, staring off like she is now.” My lips trembled violently. “She was so cold, I don’t–”

“She’s gonna be okay, Koen,” Clay said, walking toward me, stripping from his sweater and handing it to me. “Put this on,” he instructed.

I slipped my arms into the sweater and tugged it down over my freezing torso, soaking in the heat the best I could. I was shaking violently. It was exhausting and made it hard to focus. Clay noticed and sat behind me, winding his arms under the jumper he’d given me and pulling me against him on the floor. The heat of his body helped immediately and the shuddering lessened.

“She was mumbling.” I shook my head, trying to remember what she was saying.

“She still is,” Wes grumbled, his body stiff, like every moment touching her was killing him.

Even though both Clay and I could tell it wasn’t.

She looked so tiny, wrapped up in Wes, that it made me forget how strong she was when she was awake and fighting with him. She would hate every second of this, but it was working. Just as it was with me and Clay.

“ I…. to….. House. ” It was broken and quiet but repeated over again every few moments.

“What’s she saying?” I asked Wes, squinting across the room in the firelight to try and watch the movement of her mouth. Her lips were still so blue.

“I belong, house?” He repeated, only hearing half of it.

“ I belong to the house.”