2011: It's been ten years since the sky literally came crashing down around Yael Malkah and upended her world. Now she's returned to New York to visit her ailing grandmother. With no other family, it's up to her to take care of the family business...
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The second floor was vacant and, even though they didn't hear any other noises, they decided to climb the final flight to do a quick check of the third level. Yael trailed Casey, bouncing between fear and curiosity. Each time they passed an open apartment door, she was worried at what they might find and was equally impressed with the space and authentic detailing. Even after a thorough sanding, the original molding looked wonderful, and the tall windows offered breathtaking city views.
"Maybe they left?" she whispered.
"Maybe."
Yael sighed, letting herself be drawn into a doorway. "Look at the light coming in these windows."
"Some crime-fighting partner you are." Casey joined her in the sun-flooded apartment and glanced around. "I am beginning to gain a whole new appreciation for builders in the early 1900's. They knew how to make a small area appear bigger."
"Higher ceilings help." She smirked. "Wait, did you just compliment something that wasn't the newest and fanciest?"
"So?"
"I need to write this down."
"I'm never bringing you to my place," he said.
"Why?"
"You'll just make fun of it!"
"Mirrors on the ceiling?"
Casey approached her and bent, burying his face in her neck and pressing his lips there. "Only if you beg."
Desire muddled her brain. She grabbed him, pulled him in close, and kissed him hard. He groaned against her, driving her back until she was pressed against the bare studs of the far wall. Yael pushed her hips to his, and he chuckled into her hair.
"How scandalous, Miss Malkah."
"What?" she panted, wishing he'd shut the hell up and put his mouth on hers.
"Christening your building in broad daylight."
"Bet your ass."
A crash echoed from the hall outside the apartment, the sound of a bottle breaking and the recognizable splash of liquid. Casey spun away from her, retrieving the hammer Yael didn't remember him dropping. Footsteps made their way down the hallway, and the air around them stilled as if the building was holding its breath.
"Who's there?" Casey called out, inching closer to the door.
The steps stopped, allowing other sounds to materialize—crackling and popping.
Casey reached the door, Yael right on his heels with a fistful of his shirt. He peered around the corner, and she felt his body tense.
"Shit."
Looking over his shoulder, she froze in fear. A barrier of fire stood between them and the stairs, blocking the exit. It raced along the walls with lightning speed, devouring the old wood. A frantic rhythm danced in her chest, and smoke caused her eyes to tear.
