Free The Angel's Assassin by Samantha Holt Page A

that Annabel was in peril. Sprinting past the tarrying villagers, who were
curious as to the source of the light, horror seized him as the crackling
flames became apparent.
    The inn was burning,
one entire side consumed in flames. The heat immediately hit Nicholas as he
stared in dismay. The flames licked across the straw roof, threatening to
devour the entire second floor of the building and all around him people rushed
about, drawing water from the well in a vain attempt to put it out.
    Nicholas spotted
the innkeeper desperately issuing orders as he swiped as his sweat sodden face,
the blackened layer of soot already thick upon his skin. Darting a look back to
the increasing fire, his shock promptly gave way to utter fear as he saw no
sign of Annabel. Running to the innkeeper’s side, the man spotted Nicholas
before he reached him and the look he gave him chilled him to the core.
    “Is she in there?”
he shouted desperately over the roar of the flames.
    The innkeeper just
looked at him sadly as he directed a young lad carrying a bucket towards the
burning building.
    “God’s blood, she’s
in there?!”
    He dashed towards
the outer stairs, only to slam into the large innkeeper’s arms as he tried to
haul him back.
    “Ye’ll not find her
alive now, ye’ll surely burn too if ye go in there!” he yelled to him over the
din.
    Desperation licked
through him and he fought against the brawny man. The thought of Annabel
meeting such an end near killed him, the pain in his chest so excruciating that
he could barely draw breath. Finally breaking free of the innkeeper, he
sprinted up the outer stairs as flaming straw rained down upon him, blown free
by the gentle wind.
    Breaking through
the outer door, he was greeted by an overpowering stench and thick smoke. He
could just make out the blaze eating through the roof but it did not seem to
have taken hold of the wooden floorboards or the rooms underneath. Nicholas
thanked the Lord and realised it was the second time he had spoken to God that
day.
    Calling her name,
he quickly made his way to the room at the end of the inn, staying low so as to
avoid the grey fog that hung in the rafters. Hay singed him as it fell and he hazily
wondered if he would have any hair left after this. His heart jumped into his
throat when he reached the large door that signalled the one double room. A
great oak chest was placed haphazardly across the door, preventing it from
opening.
    Nicholas wasted no
time in hefting it out of the way and yanking the door open. The smoke was even
thicker there and the flames were leaping up the outer wall, threatening to set
the entire room ablaze. As he attempted to see through the smoke, he nearly
tripped over something on the floor. Looking down he realised it was Annabel,
crumpled in a heap.
    His stomach heaved,
caused by a combination of fear and smoke inhalation, and he scooped her into
his hold, her arms hanging limply as her head flopped back. Trying to prevent
the coughing fit that threatened to take hold, he began their precarious
journey back out of the inn, going a little more carefully this time for fear
of her hurting her in the narrow corridor. Nicholas hunched over Annabel as he
went, trying to shield her from the increasing debris that fell upon them.
    As he hit the fresh
air, the coughing overwhelmed him and he retched and gagged even as he carried
her down the stairs. The innkeeper gave him a look of relief as he saw him
emerge from the flaming wreck, and then a look of sorrow came across his face
as he spied Annabel sagging in his arms.
    Nicholas was about
to lay her down when a face caught his attention. Through the chaos and the
flames, Godfrey, Lord Benedict’s man, stood, watching the destruction with a
grim smile of satisfaction. Suddenly the smell - pig fat - and the chest across
her door made sense. The fire had been lit deliberately.
    Godfrey turned his
gaze onto them and the two men locked eyes momentarily. Spinning on his heels,
he