Marjorie Liu - Within the Flames

Lyssa grinned, and held out her gloved left hand. “My name is Lyssa.”

“And yes, Rose,” Eddie said proudly. “She’s my girl.”

“Well,” she said, hooking her arms around them. “This calls for free drinks and dancing. You, sweets, are my special guests tonight.”

“Be gentle,” Lyssa said, and Rose roared with laughter.

The bar was packed, and so was the cleared space in front of the stage, where a small band played. A tall, lanky black man in a T-shirt, jeans, and a suit jacket held the microphone like a lover, and sounded so much like Otis Redding that Eddie had to take a moment to make sure he wasn’t seeing the impossible.

“He’s something,” said Rose with a sigh, and led them to a small empty table on the edge of the dance floor. She plucked away its RESERVED sign, and as Eddie pulled out Lyssa’s chair, she said, “Some big-time movie star said he wanted dinner tonight, but he can just stand at the bar and drink his supper standing up. This, babies, is for you.”

“Oh,” Lyssa said, staring. “Are you sure. .”

Rose smiled and patted her cheek. “You are sweet. But you should know now that I take care of Eddie and his friends. And his ladies. . well, you’re the first I’ve seen, so I know it’s special. You’re always welcome here, Lyssa. Don’t forget it.”

Before Lyssa could say a word, the old woman spun and disappeared into the crowd.

Eddie caught her hand, smiling. “See?”

“I. .” she began, and gave him a peculiar look that was full of wonderment. “I’ve never. .”

“I know,” he said. “But this is your home now. All of this. Everything I have is your home, Lyssa. I want you to know that.”

She blinked hard and swallowed. “If she knew what I am, what I could do. .”

“You do good,” he said. “You help people and save lives. You’re an artist, a writer. A great one. You’re the finest, bravest person I know.”

She exhaled, slowly, her eyes beginning to glow. The small candle burning on the table sputtered, and flared like a firecracker. A grin touched her mouth, and Eddie laughed.

“Miracles,” she murmured, looking at him with a heat that made him feel his soul was burning in light. “I love you.”

The man onstage launched into a stirring rendition of “Try a Little Tenderness.” Eddie stood and tugged on Lyssa’s hand. “Let’s dance.”

“No,” she said, laughing. “I’ve never.”

“Then you have to, with me.”

“You’re going to regret this.”

“Only if you say no,” he said, pulling her off the chair with a flex of one strong arm. Lyssa’s laugh became a gasp as she slammed against him, his one arm sliding instantly around her waist and holding her so tightly he could feel every curve of her lush body. She held him just as closely, her right hand clasped in his left. He turned them slowly, swaying to that soulful voice singing about love and tenderness.

And then he looked past her, into the crowd — and saw a man watching them.

Time slowed down. Details stood out in the shadows. Every part of the man was sharp, jutting, hard. Maybe because he was so skinny, as if every ounce of fat had melted off him, stretching his skin tight as a drum across his chest and face. His eyes bulged, and his mouth was thick, making a long slashing line across his face.

Matthew Swint. It was him.

The world came unhinged around him, tilting sideways. Nothing seemed real. He was suddenly a kid again, heart pounding, crushed with fear.

The Cruor Venator couldn’t touch him, but Matthew Swint. . seeing him again was a greasy, sweaty nightmare filled with cigarette burns, and his pants pulled down so Matthew could make fun of his penis and threaten to set it on fire. It was seeing him kiss Eddie’s mother, and follow her into her bedroom, and seeing him in that same bedroom with his sobbing sister. .

A strong, warm hand grabbed his, holding tight. Fire flowed through that touch, sinking into his skin.

Lyssa. He was not alone.

She stared at him with concern, but Eddie didn’t wait to explain. He let go of her, and ran toward Matthew — plowing through the crowd with hot, wild, determination. Matthew ran, too — fast, darting. Eddie glimpsed his back just before he disappeared up the stairs to the Kosmo Klub’s front door.

Lyssa caught up just as he hit the sidewalk. Matthew was already at the end of the block, and Eddie took off after him — heart pounding, fury fueling his muscles, lending so much speed that he caught up with the older man as he swerved down an alley.

Matthew spun, nearly tripping, and his hand flashed inside his jacket. He pulled out a gun, pointing it at Eddie — just as Lyssa staggered into the alley with them.

Dammit.

“Edward,” said Matthew, breathlessly. “I wish you hadn’t seen me just now.”

“Following me? Visiting my mother’s home?” Eddie edged in front of Lyssa. “What did you think would happen?”

Matthew was still breathing hard, one hand holding his chest. He really did look sick, even frail, but there was a wiry strength about him, too — and something quietly frenzied about the way he looked at Eddie that was totally unnerving.

But not as frightening as knowing Lyssa was just behind him, in range of a bullet.

Eddie edged closer. “You should have died in jail. Isn’t that what happens to child molesters?”

Matthew’s mouth stretched into a ghastly smile. “When they’re lucky. Let’s just say. . I wasn’t. But it gave me plenty of time to think about you.” The gun wavered. “You’re the reason I went to jail. You killed my brother. Everyone thought I set him on fire, but I knew it was you. I saw the look in your eyes when he went up. Sort of like the look you’re giving me now.”

His finger began to squeeze the trigger — and the world slowed down with agonizing force. Eddie stopped thinking. His heart and body took over, and he raised his hand at the man.

Fire erupted, consuming him in a spire of flames. But even as Matthew burned, he fired the gun.

Pain lanced across Eddie’s arm, spinning him. Just a flesh wound.

But then he heard Lyssa scream.

Everything happened too fast, up until the moment Eddie got shot. But when he spun, hit — the world dropped away.

Lyssa screamed in rage and lunged toward Matthew Swint. She heard shouts behind her, but those were lost beneath the roar in her ears. It didn’t matter that he was already dying, that she could feel his blood boiling beneath his skin as the fire licked up his legs. A terrible fury clawed up her throat when she thought about him hurting Eddie — and a sister that she would never know.

Children, abused. And now he was back, trying to kill. . to murder. .

Your mate, whispered the dragon, in a voice crackling with rage.

Flames burned through the glove of her right hand, turning it to ash as she plowed into Matthew’s burning body. Her claws gleamed with fire.

She barely felt the first blow or the second, but when the blood sprayed from his throat and hit her face, the heat and scent of it flooded her with terrible pleasure. For the first time in her life, violence did not frighten her. It felt righteous.

Matthew Swint screamed, but his voice choked as Lyssa pressed her mouth to his throat wound and drank — deep and long, lips tight as her dragon teeth sharpened and bit into his flesh.

His blood was not sweet. It was terrible. She realized in that moment why a Cruor Venator chose victims so carefully: only good people with good lives, because when drinking a soul — drinking memories — it was only sweetness that a Cruor Venator would want inside her mind.