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iopenthingsDoor stepped through the huge doors and stared around the cavernous hall. The candles were all burning, and she reflexively checked for Islington, remembering how the candles had always lit for him voluntarily.
The rooms were utterly deserted. Dead leaves still blew across the floor. There was the door she had opened; there were the shackles that had chained Richard and the Marquis; there were the scrape marks from Croup and Vandemar's fingernails.
For a moment, Door stood in the middle of the floor, feeling very small and helpless. Then, with a scream of rage, she threw herself sideways, knocking over several candles and landing on the marble floor. She lay on the ground gasping for a moment, then scrambled to her feet and kicked a huge candelabra. It teetered for a moment, then fell in a magnificent firey arch, scraping against a hanging curtain on its way down. The curtain caught fire immediately, flames licking up the fabric, but door did not notice. She had already turned around, was already knocking over more candles, all the candles she could reach. Many of them blew out before they reached the floor, but a few lit the piles of leaves, and the flames on the draperies were quickly jumping to other wall hangings. Islington's Lair was filling with smoke at an alarming rate, but Door seemed oblivious.
Finally the smoke swirled around her and she began to cough. She stopped and looked around, her eyes widening slightly at the sight of the flames blazing around her, at the knowledge that in her anger, she hadn't even noticed them. She glanced around wildly, looking for the door, but the smoke was too thick, and she had lost her sense of direction. She stumbled forward, coughing uncontrollably, until she reached a wall. She leaned against it, and, with the last of her strength, she Opened.
The rooms were utterly deserted. Dead leaves still blew across the floor. There was the door she had opened; there were the shackles that had chained Richard and the Marquis; there were the scrape marks from Croup and Vandemar's fingernails.
For a moment, Door stood in the middle of the floor, feeling very small and helpless. Then, with a scream of rage, she threw herself sideways, knocking over several candles and landing on the marble floor. She lay on the ground gasping for a moment, then scrambled to her feet and kicked a huge candelabra. It teetered for a moment, then fell in a magnificent firey arch, scraping against a hanging curtain on its way down. The curtain caught fire immediately, flames licking up the fabric, but door did not notice. She had already turned around, was already knocking over more candles, all the candles she could reach. Many of them blew out before they reached the floor, but a few lit the piles of leaves, and the flames on the draperies were quickly jumping to other wall hangings. Islington's Lair was filling with smoke at an alarming rate, but Door seemed oblivious.
Finally the smoke swirled around her and she began to cough. She stopped and looked around, her eyes widening slightly at the sight of the flames blazing around her, at the knowledge that in her anger, she hadn't even noticed them. She glanced around wildly, looking for the door, but the smoke was too thick, and she had lost her sense of direction. She stumbled forward, coughing uncontrollably, until she reached a wall. She leaned against it, and, with the last of her strength, she Opened.
