Marjorie Liu - Within the Flames

“Yes,” said Lyssa.

“Okay,” he replied. “It’s about what you said in the cab.”

“I didn’t think you heard me.”

“I was listening.” His thumb brushed against her mouth, and she flinched, opening her eyes. . and meeting his. “I understand fighting. I understand the choice to run. . or hold your ground. I respect you for it.”

“So what’s the problem?”

His expression was so severe. “Lyssa. Don’t play dumb.”

She pushed against his chest. “Fine. Of course I’ll get hurt. There’s no win in this situation. I’m already hurt. I’m just not dead.”

“That’s not good enough. I want you safe, alive, and happy.” He caught her hand and held it against him, unmoving. “Is it such a bad thing for someone to care what the hell happens to you?”

Yes, she thought, suddenly exhausted. Yes, if I lose them.

Heavy footsteps on the landing. Heavy as a gargoyle. Lyssa sagged against the wall, heart sinking into her stomach as she looked away from Lannes and Eddie — staring down the stairs, desperately fighting for control over her memories, and grief.

Eddie said, in a rough voice, “Give us a minute.”

Silence. Then, Lannes replied, mildly, “Is everything okay?”

Lyssa closed her eyes, tears rolling down her cheeks. Eddie made a small sound, deep in his throat, and moved so that he blocked her from Lannes.

“We’re fine,” he said, in a gentler tone. “We’ll be right there.”

She couldn’t see their faces, but the hush that fell in that stairwell was immense, and charged.

Until, finally, she heard the rustle of wings and the groan of stairs.

Eddie let out his breath. Lyssa chanced a look and found his back turned to her. He stood one step above her, staring up at the landing. His hands curled in loose fists. Strong, broad, steady.

“I’ll be honest,” she murmured, closing her eyes again. “I didn’t like it when you were angry with me, back at the apartment building. And I don’t like it that I even cared.”

Eddie turned and sat on the steps. Then he held out his hand to her.

His hand looked so large and warm. Lyssa couldn’t help herself, and let him draw her down to the same step: crammed together, side by side, in that narrow space, cocooned in cracking walls and heat, and shadow.

He held her hand in a loose grip. “You know my worst nightmare? Losing my temper. I did that once, and it ended. . so badly. And, oddly, not as bad as I wanted it to.”

The wounds in her heart bled a little more. “Is that why you ran from home?”

“Yes.” Eddie looked down at their hands, turning them over so his scars were hidden. “And I wasn’t mad at you.”

“Yes, you were.”

He closed his eyes. “I’ll go insane if I can’t protect you. But. . I’m afraid I won’t be strong enough. I hesitated, with Betty, at the end. I knew what I had to do, but taking that last step. .”

“I know,” she said softly. “Part of the reason I’ve been running all these years is that I don’t want to kill.” Lyssa held up her right hand, oddly shaped inside the glove. “I was so close to taking Betty’s life. And then, when Lannes finished her. .”

“I felt relieved,” he said, and they shared a long look.

“Well,” Lyssa told him, finally. “I’m glad.”

The corner of his mouth softened. “That so?”

“I hate movies where the heroes just go around shooting people like it’s nothing. You know, bang-bang, right in the face — and then they get off some funny line and keep on going like it’s just another day, and oh — it’s time for lunch.”

His smile grew a fraction more. “But some people find that sexy.”

Lyssa struck a pose, aiming a gun with her fingers. “ Pew-pew. ”

A snort escaped him, and his eyes warmed.

“You’re right,” she said, blowing on her finger, concentrating on making actual smoke trickle from the tip of her glove. “It’s totally hot.”

Eddie laughed outright and covered her hand with his. His smile faded, though, and he bowed his head. . drawing her hand close to his chest, holding it with heart-stopping gentleness. Lyssa leaned in and kissed the top of his head.

Above them, the ceiling creaked. Someone big was pacing.

“Your friends are waiting,” she said.

“You’re my friend, too.” Eddie glanced up at the ceiling. “You saved Lannes and Lethe today.”

“It wasn’t that simple.”

“You saved them,” he said firmly. “You didn’t have to come with me, and you didn’t have to help them, but you did. I know it cost you something.”

Lyssa remembered the taste of Lethe’s blood. . and how good it had felt when she frightened those witches. Knowing she could own them, if she really wanted it.

She sighed. “I would do it again in a heartbeat.”

“But?”

“You’re right. It cost me.”

Maybe my soul, she thought.

Dirk & Steele owned the entire building — five stories filled with a handful of individual apartments that remained locked and unused, except for times like these, when people needed a place to go.

Eddie found Lannes on the second floor, inside the first apartment on the left. Hardly any furniture: two chairs and a battered folding table, and a small dingy lamp on the floor in the corner. Illusion-clad, he stood in the middle of the apartment with his arms folded over his massive chest. Unhappiness and unease were written all over his face, and his frown only deepened when he saw Lyssa.

“We shouldn’t have left you,” Lannes said, when they walked in. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

“You did the right thing,” Eddie told him. “Don’t doubt it for a minute.”

“The woman. .” He looked down, staring at his big hands. “Is she really dead?”

“She was only the servant of a Cruor Venator, ” Lyssa said, quietly. “So yes, she’s dead.”

“Just a servant?” Lannes gave her a haunted look. “The way she made me feel. . the fear. . I was certain she was one of them.”

“Close enough. If you hadn’t killed her, she would have reported your existence to the witch. The Cruor Venator would have certainly hunted you and your family.”

Eddie thought of the gleam in Betty’s eye and the blood that had dripped from her knife. Estefan had been skinned alive, drained, partially eaten. . what would they do to a gargoyle, who would be even harder to kill?

He swallowed hard. “Lethe’s people will. . get rid of the body. We didn’t ask how.”

“I don’t want to know.” Lannes raked his hands through his illusory hair though his hands hitched upward — as though hitting his horns. “What a day.”

No kidding. Eddie fought to keep his feelings in check: more anger and fear, and something deeper, more disturbing. “You both have to leave the city.”

“Obviously.” For a moment, pain eased in the gargoyle’s face. . and his mouth twitched into a smile that was wild and tremulous. “I’m going to be a father.”

Warmth spread through Eddie’s chest, accompanied by an odd longing that made him glance at Lyssa. She was looking at him, too, though her gaze flew instantly away. Her cheeks reddened.

He cleared his throat. “Congratulations.”

“It’s impossible,” whispered the gargoyle, as if he didn’t hear him. “I’m terrified. What if her mother was right? I’m not human. The baby could be. . deformed, or sick. .”

“Lannes,” he said quietly. “It’s a miracle. Don’t overthink it.”

“I know.” He flexed his fingers and looked at Lyssa. “You and I need to talk.”

She gave him wary look. “Okay.”