Chapter 91

A solid wall of black smoke greeted him. Under the cackling laughter of the demon, he heard the roar of flames as they ate away at his home.

Hunter dashed into the bathroom and grabbed a towel from the rack, quickly wetted it at the sink, and covered his face with it. He faced the open bedroom door, trembling.

This was not a time for tears. Hunter knew if he was to survive, he had to keep his wits about him, even though he knew the odds of his escaping this conflagration were almost nil. But damn it—he had to try. Never before had he been filled with such a will to live.

Hunter looked down, recalling the simple truth of heat rising, and saw that the air along the floor, while far from clear, was still less smoke-clogged than the air above it. He dropped to a crouch, then belly crawled into the hallway.