An old car had been shoved right up against the entrance, pressed so tightly to the front door that it could not possibly be opened. The windows were full of jagged holes, as though something had been thrown through them, and thick dark smoke poured out through the broken glass.
I stopped the car. My heart pounded wildly.
No. No, no, no.
Luka!
I jumped out of the car, trying to think. What the hell was I meant to do? Right. There had to be a back exit.
I ran for the door, but found the same scene waiting for me. Some ancient wreck had been shoved right up against it, blocking any way through. I leaned in, trying to see whether the keys were still in, whether there was any way to move it. Nothing. There was no chance of getting my own car close enough to shift it either.
I turned and ran back to the main entrance.
Windows. The windows.
I had to break one.
I drove my elbow into the glass once, then again, but it held. I glanced around, searching for a stone or something else. There was nothing. Not a thing.
Fuck!
Why now, of all times?
The place had never been this clean.
I rushed back to the car, remembering that there was supposed to be an emergency kit in there. There was something in it for breaking windows.
Quickly opening the boot, I started rummaging around in it until I finally found the bloody thing. That was it. Had to be.
I grabbed it, but before I could take a step, my phone buzzed in my pocket.
I snatched it up without thinking.
"Did you reach the fire brigade?" I shouted, completely certain it was my secretary.
"Stay where you are," commanded a harsh, cold voice
Father?
"If you take even one more step, I will blow that damned bar to hell."
I froze.
A tremor spread through my body, and I could not produce a single word.
Don't tell me…
My gaze moved across the street as I slowly looked around.
"You…" The word caught in my throat. "You…"
Anger rose in my chest, and my grip tightened around the phone.
"Do you understand… they could… they could…"
The sentence wouldn't form. Something heavy lodged in my throat.
"Send the firefighters here," I forced out. "Immediately!"
"Firefighters," he repeated calmly. "Yes. I could send them."
My breathing grew ragged.
"Only if you stop playing with that little hybrid and come to your senses."
I said nothing.
"But if you attempt to drag him out yourself," he continued, his tone still calm, "or if you return to see that little bastard again… what do you think will happen to him then? Do you believe he would survive it?"
I swallowed.
"Send… the firefighters," I said again.
A quiet, cruel laugh came through the phone.
"Get back into your car and return home," my father said. "Obey me, and I will allow someone to put out this charming little bonfire."
Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!
My heart hammered wildly in my chest.
Then a loud blast echoed from inside the bar. Something burst within the building with a sharp, violent crack.
My heart stopped, and I jerked forward.
"Stay where you are," my father said at once. "I will not repeat myself."
Another second of silence.
"Well, son? You will not see that little bastard again, will you?"
My hand tightened around the phone until the plastic creaked beneath my grip.
"All right," I managed.
"And you will make certain that filthy creature does not follow you around either."
The words scraped against my throat.
"Yes. Just send the firefighters already. Please… Hurry."
"Excellent," he said softly. "Good boy."
The line went dead.
My heart raced, beating so violently it hurt.
I could not remember a single day in my life when I had felt like this. Such helplessness. Such terror.
I couldn't bring myself to get into the car and drive away.
I had to know they would get out.
I had to see that he got out.
That he was alive.
I opened the car door and reached into the glove compartment, searching until I found a pack of cigarettes that belonged to my driver.
Inside were cigarettes and a lighter.
I turned one cigarette between my fingers. My hands shook so badly that it snapped in two and fell onto the pavement.
I took another one. Then, with trembling hands, I shoved the phone and the pack into my pocket.
After lighting the cigarette, I took the first drag.
The smoke burned my throat. I coughed hard, the taste bitter and harsh. It felt awful, though it distracted, if only briefly, from the hell unfolding in front of me.
I folded my arms across my chest and forced myself to breathe slowly, trying to drag at least a fragment of control back over my emotions.
Then a sharp crash cut through the air.
Glass shattered.
I looked up just in time to see one of the windows break from the inside. In the opening, Kazuo appeared. One by one, everyone who had been inside came out onto the street.
My heart pounded, but I remained exactly where I was. I did not move.
Then I saw him.
Luka pulled himself through the window and fell onto the pavement beside the others. He sat there for a moment, covered in soot.
Sirens rose in the distance. Fire engines. Police. An ambulance.
My father had kept his word.
The panic in my chest slowly began to ease.
He had made it out.
He was alive!
My breathing slowly returned to normal. I took another drag from the cigarette.
That was when he noticed me.
He ran toward me.
It took enormous effort to pull on themaskthat had always served me so well. The familiar mask of calm, of indifference, the one that hid every emotion now raging inside my chest.
His face was black with soot. The fur on his fox ears was singed. The smell of smoke and burnt hair clung to him.
I looked him over quickly. He was talking fast, breathless, something about the police, about what had happened inside. I barely heard a word.
Then my eyes caught his hand.
Blood covered his palm.
For a single second, my heart lurched, and the mask slipped.
Only for a second, but it took immense effort to pull it back into place.
If I stayed any longer, I'd break. And if I broke, what would happen to him?
My father… What would he do to him?
Could I protect him?
No.
Of course, I could not.
I gathered what strength I had left and said things I never imagined I would say to him. Cruel things. Ugly things. I wanted him to hate me. I wanted him to give up on me, to stop looking for me.
So that if we ever crossed paths again, he would turn and walk the other way.
I turned my back on him and drove away.
It was the most painful thing I had ever done.
It felt as though I had torn my own heart out and left it there, among the burning ruins of The Little Night.