I lay my head back on the concrete wall and let my arms fall limply to my sides. This is it then. Death by fire. Like a witch, how ironic.

I close my eyes and focus on anything other than my laboured breathing. The heat on my skin, the deafening carnage coming from upstairs, the blood rolling down my temple, the sound of angry shuffling beside me. Someone cursing. A lot.

I snap my eyes open. He is here.

"Hi. Am I dead?" My eyes fall on Death's dark glare. "Just tell me."

"What the fuck is going on in here?" he roars. His eyes zero in on the half-opened bag at my side. Then, he looks around at the weapons and guns hanging off the walls. "Why am I not surprised?"

"Are you going to collect my soul like you did with that girl now?" I say in a raspy voice. I clutch my middle and curl into a ball as each violent cough rakes through my body.

He ignores my question. "We have to get you out of here." He gathers me gently in his arms. I guess this means I am not dead.

"Wait!" I cough again. "You have to get the-" I cough again and try to breath, but my lungs are closing up. I motion to the cabinet where I keep the explosives.

"What is wrong with you? Your house is on fire and all you can think of are your god damn guns? I'll kidnap you a gunsmith if you want. Hell, I'll compel him to make you every single caliber there is. I'll even take him from the Browning factory if you'd like. We need to go. Right Now!"

"No-Not-" I start to wheeze. "Not the guns, you-" cough. "Idiot. The explosives." I point frantically to the cabinet again.

Just then, a blazing boulder rolls down the stairs and fire erupts around us. My eyes grow wide. In a matter of seconds, everything will explode.

"Get them!" I yell.

Death throws me over his shoulder and launches himself at the closet. The next second, we are both standing on my front lawn. With the cabinet. He drops me to my feet and the entire contents of my stomach empty right there on the grass. When I am finally done retching, a vague sense of Déjà Vu overcomes me. I feel Death's hand caressing my back.

"Take a deep breath," he soothes.

I will the fresh air to invade my lungs and return my breathing to normal.

When I finally lift my head up from the ground, I stare in horror at the scene before me. My house, my beautiful little cottage-style house is combusting right before my eyes. Amber flames shoot out from the roof and from the gaping hole that is now in my kitchen. The fire is eating away at every wall, creating violent embers that fly to the midnight sky.

Seing it from the outside... reality settles. It is gone. My home. My refuge.

"Let me see your face." He brushes my chin and turns my head to the side to look at my wound. His jaw flexes when he takes in the damage, lips pressed in a thin line.

When my eyes become blurry with unshed tears, I turn away and wipe them.

"You were right," I sniff.

"What about?" he looks at me with apprehension.

I wipe again at my eyes. I do not want to cry in front of him again.

"About the vamps. I saw the one who did it. It was a female."

"Can you describe her?"

"Short, thin, long black hair, green eyes. Psychotic." His eyes grow hard for a moment, until they settle on my bare, shivering arms and dark expression crosses his face.

"We'll find her, Emma." He reaches over to me, but stops when we begin to hear the loud sirens approaching.

The red, blue and white lights illuminate the forest until a firetruck, an ambulance and a police car park in front of my house. Good, someone called 9-1-1.

I watch in stunned amazement as the firemen rush out of the truck and begin scrambling around in what looks like a well-rehearsed, perfectly synchronized routine. A police officer runs over to us.

"Sir, ma'am, are you ok?" he asks.

A fireman approaches us and at the same time, asks "Is there anyone left inside?"

I shake my head, "No-no," I stammer, "it was just u-us." He runs back to his teammates without sparing me another glance.

The police officer pulls out a pencil and a pad of paper and takes another step towards me, "Can you tell me what happened?"

"I-I hmm..."

"Yes?" he probes impatiently.

Death slips between us, completely blocking my view of the, much smaller, officer, "Back off," he growls at him darkly.

The officer's face pales and he looks as though he has seen a ghost.

"She needs medical assistance!" yells a masculine voice. I turn my head towards where it is coming from and see a paramedic running to me. Another one follows closely behind him.

"Come with us. Can you walk ok?" asks the first paramedic, offering me his arm.

"Yeah, I'm ok," I mumble and start following them. I feel Death's presence close behind me, but he does not intervene.

The paramedic makes me sit at the back of the ambulance and pulls out a number of medical devices his kit. He flashes a slim, pencil-shaped light at my eyes, while another one start examining my bleeding temple.

"How many fingers is this?" he asks. I just now notice how cute he is, with his boyish brown hair and round blue eyes. Such a stereotype.

"Two."

"What date is today?"

"October 14th, 2018."

"That's good."

"How did this happen?" asks the one tending to my head injury.

"I got hit by a wooden pole. I feel fine, though."

Blue-eyed boy pulls out a stethoscope and tugs my tank top down to reveal a large amount of cleavage. He places the tool on my chest and listens for my heartbeat. When he is done, he eyes the area between my breast, where Maleficent clawed me.

"What about this?" he gently pats the cut with a gloved finger when we hear a low growl. Death is towering barely two feet from us with his arms crossed in front of him. And he does not look happy.

"Is that your boyfriend?" He looks at Death cautiously.

"No," I say.

"Yes," Death says at the same time.

Blue-eyed boy looks between us for a moment before returning to his ministrations with a nervous look. I scowl at Death and he just shrugs.

The other paramedic cleans off the wound and begins to apply a bandage. "You're lucky you won't need stitches. This shouldn't leave a mark."

I offer him a small smile. I got away with only a burning house and a scratch. Lucky me. Blue-eyed boy begins to apply a salve in between my breast and Death snaps.

"Ok, pretty boy. I think that's it." Death grabs me by the arm and pulls me out of the ambulance.

"Wait!" yells the paramedic. "You should probably go to a hospital, just in case." Even though he is talking to me, he is looking straight at Death.

"No thank's. I don't really like hos-"

"I got it," interrupts Death.

When we are out of hear shot, I pull my arm away from him.

"What the hell was that?" I snap.

"What the hell was what?" he tried to grab my hand, but I move away. "Come on, I'm taking you home."

"What home? My home's fried if you haven't noticed." I point a thumb in its direction.

"I'm taking you to my place." When I do not move, he adds, "What? Are you planning on sleeping out here? Or do you have another house I don't know of?"

I ponder on this for a second. I could technically go to Sophie's. Or even to the mushroom lady down the street. No. Sophie has school tomorrow, getting her up in the middle of the night looking like this would not be fair and the mushroom lady does not like me very much. I could go to a hotel, but the odds of finding a good room on such short notice might be a long shot.

"So, what do you say?" he narrows his eyes.

"Ok."

He smirks, looking a little devilish, and starts moving deeper into the forest. When he is a few feet away, I follow suit.

After a few steps, he stops and turns to look at me. "You were in trouble and you called me," he says smugly. I do not miss the evil glint in his eyes.

"Don't let it get to your head."