Marjorie Liu - Within the Flames

Her smile faded. “She is afraid to.”

Based on what he’d seen, Lyssa’s anger stood out more than her fear. She had a lot of anger inside her. But he didn’t want to bring that up. In fact, he suddenly felt extremely uncomfortable discussing her. “Will she remember this?”

“No.”

“Then this conversation is done.” Eddie stared into those golden eyes, refusing to flinch when her clawed right hand slipped out from beneath his jacket and slid down his arm. “I mean it, ma’am.”

She stilled. “Yes. I can tell you do.”

Eddie pulled away, slowly. “You do this often?”

“Never.”

Curiosity got the better of him. “Why now?”

She closed her eyes. “Because I wanted to see the man who makes her blood sing.”

Eddie exhaled sharply. “Ma’am.”

But she said nothing else. After a quiet, breathless moment, her face relaxed and softened. Until then, he hadn’t even realized her expression had hardened, but the difference was startling. The weary vulnerability was back.

I wanted to see the man who makes her blood sing.

Eddie fingered the scars on his hands and watched her sleep.

It took Lannes more than thirty minutes to reach them, but it felt longer. He heard sirens wailing — far away, then, once, very close. He watched police and an ambulance speed through the intersection half a block away.

Every time people walked past the car, his throat closed. If vehicles drove by too slowly, he had to force himself to breathe. A litany of excuses flooded his head— she’s drunk, carsick, just sick, we’re waiting for a restaurant to open, we’re homeless so give us a break —anything, everything.

He hated being a sitting target. Worse, this reminded him too much of the old days. Always waiting to be caught — if not by police, then by someone worse.

Finally, finally , his phone rang. Lannes was on the other end.

“I’m here,” he said. “I can see the Camry. Get ready.”

Eddie got out of the car and opened up the back door. A black SUV rolled close. No cars behind it. Some foot traffic, but far enough away that very little, if anything, would be seen. He hoped.

He had Lyssa halfway out of the car when Lannes stopped beside them. She made a small sound. Eddie looked down into her eyes.

Human, golden, eyes. No dragon in them. Staring half-lidded and so exhausted he wasn’t even certain she was seeing him.

“It’s okay,” he whispered, smoothing her hair back from her face. “You’re safe.”

“No,” she breathed, eyes drifting shut again. “No, I have to. .”

Eddie held her as close as he could, pulling his jacket tight around her. She didn’t fight him when he piled her into the backseat of the SUV, slumping down into a boneless heap when he let her go.

It took him less than twenty seconds to rub down the Camry’s interior and exterior for the second time. He grabbed her backpack, kicked the door closed, and climbed into the idling car.

Lannes accelerated away before the door was closed. “You look terrible.”

“Been better.”

“And her?”

Eddie touched Lyssa’s shoulder and shook her as gently as he could — which was little more than a tightening of his fingers. “Hey.”

“No,” she murmured, as though dreaming.

“Lyssa.”

At the sound of her name, her entire face tightened with so much pain, his heart broke. “No. . don’t hurt me. . please. .”

He sagged against the seat, staring. Buzzing filled his ears, along with his thudding heartbeat. Fire burned in his blood.

“Hey,” Lannes said in a low voice, sounding very far away. “Eddie.”

He wet his lips. “Yes?”

“Take a break. Join me up front.”

Eddie flashed him a surprised look, but after a moment’s hesitation, crawled into the front. Lannes drove with his seat pushed all the way back, hunched over, his massive hands tight around the steering wheel. Lines of concern were etched in his brow.

“So,” he said. “That’s her.”

Eddie swallowed hard. “Yes. I think she’s had a difficult life.”

“Mmm.” Lannes glanced at his rearview mirror. “I feel like I’m committing a crime.”

“Any more news?”

“Still no deaths reported. Everyone’s screaming terrorist, though. You need to get out of the city.”

“I know.” Eddie looked at Lyssa again, who was still unconscious — or seemed to be. Would she leave with him? He very seriously doubted it.

Lannes followed his gaze. “Does she need a doctor?”

“I don’t think so. It wouldn’t be safe, anyway.”

“Her arm,” he replied thoughtfully. “It looks as though she’s caught in a bad shift. I’ve never seen it so extreme.”

“There’s a shifter who was found in a Consortium facility in the Congo. He’s part eagle, still. It was forced on him, by scientists.”

Lannes let out a weary sigh. “Lethe called. She said something’s up with her family. They won’t tell her what, but they’re talking about leaving the city for a while. They’re insisting she go with them. For her safety.”

“She won’t, will she?”

He hesitated. “I’m thinking of telling her to go.”

“She won’t like that.”

“And she probably won’t listen.” A faint, worried, smile touched his mouth, but it faded almost as soon as it appeared. “She thinks they know the Cruor Venator are here.”

Nikola and Betty , thought Eddie, with anger. They had made him feel like he was thirteen years old again, terrified and abused. That was one crime he could not forgive.

Both men shared a long look. Lannes said, “You were lucky to get away from those women. Very lucky.”

“Maybe you should go. Take Lethe back to Maine.”

“Run for the hills? Not yet.”

Not yet, but maybe.

It took them twenty minutes to reach Greenwich Village, where Lannes and Lethe had a home. It wasn’t just their home, but a brownstone that belonged to the gargoyle’s entire family. Eddie didn’t know how often it was used, but he’d heard from one of the brothers that it had been passed off to all of them for about seventy years. Gargoyles were long-lived.

West of Seventh Avenue, Leroy Street bent and became St. Luke’s Place. Quiet, upscale. Row houses lined the block, brick and brownstone, with arched entries and other elegant details. The trees were old and shedding their leaves. Expensive cars were parked along the street.

He felt out of place. Like a thief.

Lannes found a parking spot about a hundred feet from their brownstone. Eddie said, “People are going to see.”

“Let me carry her. I can spread my illusion.”

Eddie would have preferred to hold her, but he couldn’t say that. He could barely admit it to himself.

No traffic on the street. Just an old woman walking a dog half a block away. He didn’t see anyone watching from the windows, but that didn’t mean much. He felt as though a target were painted on his back as he opened the SUV’s back door. Lannes loomed over him and bent to pull out Lyssa.

He froze, though — and made a sharp, surprised, sound.

“What?” asked Eddie, concerned.

“I. .” Lannes stopped, leaning back with a frown. “Nothing. When I touched her. .”

He paused again. Eddie said, “Spit it out. Is there something wrong?”

“I don’t know.” Lannes pulled Lyssa into his arms. She made a small sound, but when her head lolled, her eyes stayed closed. Eddie didn’t think she was faking it. Whatever had happened in that explosion had drained her completely.

Her, and not her dragon , he reminded himself, as his jacket slipped off her body. He tucked it again more carefully around her — heart in his throat when he looked at her face. Heart in his hands when he touched her, as gently as he could.