THE SON-IN-LAW WHO WOULDN'T BURN

CHAPTER 4: THE FIRE THAT REFUSED

The guards pulled Cole up through the narrow crack like a heavy bag. Two men held the rope while two others grabbed his arms. Nobody spoke as they dragged him out. His knees scraped against the salt walls as they pulled him up.

When they reached the chamber, they dropped him onto the stone floor. He landed on his side, his cheek against the cold ground. He let his eyes fall half shut.

"Stay limp," Hollow whispered inside his head. "Breathe slowly. You fell a hundred feet. You should look like someone who can barely stay alive."

I fell a hundred feet? Cole thought.

"That's what you'll tell them. Turn your left wrist inward. Hide the ring under the rope."

Cole let his tied hands hang loose and turned his wrist against his stomach. The white ring was still warm. The rope covered it, and the loose knot kept it out of sight.

He let out a groan. It sounded so real that even he was surprised.

"He's breathing," one of the guards said. He sounded almost annoyed.

"Of course he's breathing." Garrick's boots crunched against the salt as he came closer. "The fall wasn't high enough to kill a servant. I told you. Dirt doesn't break easily."

The chamber was still full of people. Cole could hear their robes moving and their low voices. Someone asked how he was still alive. Another person was praying.

Behind him, a long crack ran down the middle of the altar. Three iron bars had been placed under it to hold it up. Brent was already pulling a bucket of lamp oil across the floor, whistling as he worked.

Cole opened one eye a little.

Elise stood near the stairs. Two of her cousins were holding her back. Her right hand was wrapped in a torn piece of her own sleeve, but blood had already soaked through the cloth. Her black hair had come loose.

She wasn't crying. She was staring at him so hard that he could feel her eyes on him.

Their eyes met. Her lips moved.

Don't.

Cole didn't know what she meant. Maybe she was telling him not to die. Or maybe she was warning him not to let the others see that he was fine.

Perhaps she meant both.

"Fire," Silas said.

The old man stood beside the stairs, leaning on his cane. His long white beard shone in the lantern light as he looked at the broken altar.

"The ritual was stopped by an accident, not an omen. We will finish it now. The new moon will not wait for us."

"Father," Elder Morrow said carefully. "The cave is open. What if something..."

"The cave has been open for three minutes, Morrow, and it hasn't eaten anyone yet."

Silas spoke in a calm voice.

"Finish it."

Rough hands grabbed Cole and turned him onto his back on the altar. The stone was still cold, and the crack ran right under his spine. He felt a small tingle beneath him, almost like a heartbeat.

The guards locked a chain around his legs. Someone pulled his arms above his head.

The rope rubbed against his healed wrists. For a moment, his fingers touched the ring. It felt warm, almost like skin.

"Don't fight them," Hollow whispered. "Don't move suddenly. Don't speak unless you have to."

What happens when they light the fire?

"Honestly? I'm not sure."

That's helpful.

"I'm telling you the truth."

Cole almost laughed, but it came out as a cough.

"Look at him."

Garrick leaned over him with a smile. His silver rings shone in the lantern light.

"Still wheezing. We'll soon fix that."

He tapped Cole's cheek twice.

"Any last words? You were so quiet before."

"Tell Brent..." Cole made his voice shake. "Tell him the wine was cheap."

Brent laughed loudly at first. Then he stopped and stared at Cole.

"What?"

"It's cheap. I could taste it from here."

"Shut up!"

"Enough."

Silas hit his cane against the stone. The sound made the whole room go quiet.

"Light it."

Garrick stepped back and took a long torch from one of the guards. He held it high so everyone could see. The flame burned bright orange, and its light made the shadows move across the salt walls.

"In the name of the Vance family," he said.

For the first time that night, he wasn't joking.

"We offer this vessel. May his burning lift us."

He lowered the torch and touched the flame to the oil.

With a loud whoosh, fire spread around the edge of the altar. It rushed along the stone and climbed up its sides.

The heat hit Cole's face. He smelled smoke and burning salt.

Everyone in the room drew in a breath. Someone at the back began to cry. Another person started saying the old words of the ritual.

Cole shut his eyes.

For three heartbeats, nothing happened.

Then the flames turned toward him.

They touched his arms, the front of his shirt, and the bare skin of his neck.

But he felt no pain.

The fire was warm, like a hand held over a stove. It moved slowly across his body, almost as if it were trying to understand him. It passed over his chest, the rope around his wrists, and even his hair.

Then the flames began to shrink.

They didn't go out all at once. Instead, they pulled away from him, as if they had found something they didn't like.

The tall flames sank to his knees, then dropped to his ankles. Soon, only a weak ring of burning coals remained around the bottom of the altar.

Smoke filled the room. A guard nearby coughed.

Then the fire went out.

Cole opened his eyes.

The oil had burned away, leaving black marks on the salt around the altar. His shirt was still gray. His skin wasn't even red.

The ropes around his wrists were still there, rough and worn, but not a single part had burned.

Nobody spoke.

Cole could hear his own heartbeat and the small drops of oil falling from the torch in Garrick's hand.

"Hollow," he whispered without moving his lips. "Why didn't it...?"

"I don't know," Hollow replied.

For the first time, the voice sounded just as surprised as Cole felt.

An elder at the back fell to her knees. Another began to pray, speaking so fast that her words shook. A young cousin ran toward the stairs, but a guard caught him before he could get away.

Brent stood still. The empty bucket hung from his hand, and his mouth was wide open.

Elise had stopped breathing. Cole could see it in the way she stood. Her shoulders were stiff, and her bandaged hand was pressed against her chest.

Her eyes were wide. They looked wet and angry at the same time.

Garrick took one step toward the altar. Then another.

He bent over Cole and brought his face close. Cole could smell the wine on his breath.

For a long moment, Garrick only stared at him.

"No," he whispered. "No, no, no."

He stood up straight again. His shoulders shook.

Then he turned toward the guards. His next words were so loud that everyone in the room heard them.

"More oil! Bring more oil! Burn him again!"

"Garrick..." Elder Morrow began.

"Burn him!"

One of the guards started toward the bucket.

Then Silas hit his cane against the floor.

The sound wasn't loud, but everyone heard it.

The old man walked through the crowd. People moved out of his way without him having to ask. He stopped at the foot of the altar.

First, he look

ed at the ropes that had not burned. Then he looked at the cold coals and at Cole, who was still tied between them.

At last, he turned to his own son.

"Nobody touches him," he said.