Within the Flames

Chapter Nine

If the wind had been blowing in another direction, Lyssa would never have smelled the blood.

But she did, and because it was blood she paid attention — and smelled someone familiar.

Mandy. One of the women Jimmy had said was missing.

Lyssa didn’t know her well. A crazy, loud girl, who liked to dance in the middle of Grand Central, and hold signs advertising FREE HUGS. She and her girlfriend, Flo, were inseparable — homeless, sometimes-prostitutes — addicted to heroin.

She dropped to her knees, trying not to panic — and reached out to touch the young woman’s face. Her skin was cool, but she was breathing.

The blood was on her clothes. Mandy wore a green army jacket that was three sizes too large, and her clothes beneath were all black. Lyssa had to lean in to see the bloodstains that covered her chest, and reached carefully beneath the girl’s jacket to give them an experimental touch. Some of the blood had dried, hardening the sweater.

But most of the blood was wet. The blanket beneath, soaked through and stained. That metallic scent washed over her, making sweat break out against her back and between her breasts. When she swallowed, her throat burned. When she breathed, her lungs were hot.

“Mandy,” she whispered harshly.

Eyelids fluttered. Cracked lips moved. Lyssa listened hard, but all she heard was a quiet hiss of breath.

There was no way to know how long Mandy had been here, but it was long enough to come close to death — without anyone’s noticing.

No one ever noticed. No one ever looked. It was why Lyssa had come to this city.

But I don’t want to die alone. Alone, in a crowd. Invisible.

Eddie crouched beside her, already on his cell phone. She listened to him speak with a 911 operator, his words less important than the fact that he was there, with her.

“Liz,” breathed the young woman. “S’you?”

Hearing Mandy’s voice filled Lyssa with terrible relief, though it was short-lived. “It’s me.”

She let out a strained, shaky, sigh. “God, Flo.”

“Flo isn’t here.”

“No. Gotta get to. . Flo. ’Fore they kill her.” Her face crumpled, tears sliding down her cheeks. “They took me. . away from her. I tried to. . to fight. Didn’t wan’ ’em to make me. . leave.”

Lyssa leaned back, Mandy’s grief tearing into her like a knife. She had thought similar words over the past ten years.

I should have stayed and fought. I shouldn’t have run.

Heat exploded behind her eyes, but it’s wasn’t fire. Just tears. Lyssa felt twelve years old again, dying of guilt. She would never forgive herself for that night. Never.

She touched Mandy’s hand, wanting to comfort her.

A connection formed, unexpected and instantaneous: a split-second bond, electric hot, tossing her into a mindscape that resembled a frenzied dance floor crowded with memories, fragmented and frozen between rapid pulses of light.

Flo.

Flo, with her ruddy skin and wild blond hair. . those lips she puckers to blow kisses, everywhere, at anyone. .

Flo. Smiling.

Flo. Screaming.

Chains. Blood. Sobs.

A knife glints. Wicked blade.

Black blade. Curved. Obsidian.

Etched with runes.

Pain seared: a lick of fire in her head, above her heart. Sharp as a stab.

The connection snapped.

Lyssa tilted, breathless. Floating, flying, falling. Part of her was still in Mandy’s mind, listening to Flo scream. Staring at the blade.

She slumped forward, clutching her chest. Blinking hard. Heart pounding with frightening irregularity. The grass came back into view, but it was blurry. Lyssa blinked, and tears spilled from her eyes. She hardly noticed. All she could think about was the obsidian blade.

The weapon of a Cruor Venator.

Someone touched her shoulders. Lyssa recoiled, but it was only Eddie. His scent washed over her: a mix of woodsmoke and sandalwood.

It had a strange effect on her. His scent reminded her too much of warm winter nights in front of a fire. Nights holding hot chocolate and listening to music. Nights that had been home, long ago and far away.

Lyssa rubbed a shaking hand over her mouth, but the scent of blood was so strong on her fingers that she reeled. Eddie immediately pulled her against his chest, and the contact was warm in the most healing way possible, safe and solid, and more real than the grass beneath her.

“Breathe,” he whispered, covering her hand with his, and squeezing. “Close your eyes, listen to my voice, and breathe.”

She shivered. “Don’t worry about me. Just Mandy.”

Eddie’s hand tightened. “You know this woman.”

“Yes,” she whispered. “She went missing. A lot of homeless women have been disappearing.”

“Was it the Cruor Venator who hurt her?”

An obsidian knife flashed through her memories. Mandy’s memory. . and her own, ten years old and still fresh in mind.

Lyssa nodded, as more tears slid down her cheeks. Embarrassed, she tried scrubbing her face with the back of her hand, but it did no good. More tears took their place. It was horrifying.

“Hold on,” Eddie said, and reached into his backpack. He pulled out a rumpled tissue and held it out to her. “Here. It’s clean.”

Lyssa was more surprised by the thoughtfulness of the offer than the possibility the tissue might be dirty. She looked at him, and the kindness in his eyes stole her breath away. No pity. Just compassion and concern.

He pushed the tissue into her hand, and she pressed it to her nose.

“Thank you,” she whispered, unable to tear her gaze from his. “Is an ambulance coming?”

“Listen,” he said, and just like that, she heard the wail of a siren.

She looked around the park. Mandy lay ten feet off the sidewalk, just one more homeless woman amongst thousands — making her invisible. No magic needed to hide a dying woman in plain sight.

Some people walking down the sidewalk were watching them now, but no one stopped. Their scents filled her nose — body odor and perfume, pizza grease, halitosis. Nothing slick or dangerous.

Her skin prickled, though. As a child, she’d watched a mountain lion stalk a young elk, and that poor nervous creature had sensed the blow long before it happened. It just hadn’t known from what direction it would come.

I’ve been waiting ten years for the knife to fall.

Lyssa should have already been running. This was a trap. Or a message. A homeless drug addict was not the type of person a Cruor Venator would choose to kill. And there was no way Mandy could have escaped the witch. . unless she was let go on purpose.

But I hardly know her. Why would she be a target?

What did that mean for Jimmy and his mother?

And who would stop the Cruor Venator and her women this time?

Who, she said to herself, dreading what she already knew. Who else?

“You know something,” said Eddie.

She shook her head, but only because panic and anger had lodged in her throat, cutting off her voice. The ambulance sirens were closer, and she struggled to her feet — the fire inside her so hot, her skin prickled.

“I need to get out of here,” she muttered, staring at Mandy’s ashen face. The woman was barely conscious, making soft moaning sounds as her fingers twitched. Blood seeped beneath her on the blanket, inviting Lyssa to make another, different connection.

She backed away. Eddie stood with her. “We need to wait for the ambulance.”

A frustrated growl left her throat — followed by the tremendous urge to swing her fists at a stationary target. “I can’t. I barely knew this woman, but if they got to her. .”

Mandy was a small target. The next one? Closer, more important.

“There’s a little boy,” Lyssa whispered to Eddie. “The one who was with me earlier today.”

He stared at her for one second, then looked away at the sidewalk. Coiled, intense, his eyes focusing on a power-walking woman in yoga gear, with a tight face, glossy hair, and lips that were plumper than her breasts.

“Ma’am!” he shouted, with a hard authority that Lyssa had only ever associated with the police. The woman responded immediately, teetering to a stop and giving him a startled look.

Eddie didn’t give her time to ask a question. Lyssa watched, impressed, as he strode to her and pointed at Mandy.

“That woman has been attacked. An ambulance is coming, but my partner and I have to direct the EMTs to this spot. I need you to stay with her until they arrive.”

Her expression crumpled with uncertainty. “I don’t—”

“Ma’am,” Eddie interrupted. “Do it. Now.”

She blinked at him, then crossed the grass to Mandy, rubbing her palms over her thighs — uneasy, still startled, acting on automatic pilot. Lyssa crouched again beside Mandy, whose breathing was shallow, her eyes closed tight.

“You’re safe,” she told her, hoping that was true. “It’ll be okay.”

“Lyssa,” Eddie said, tugging gently on her shoulder.

The power walker didn’t watch them go. She kept rubbing her hands, standing beside Mandy and staring down at all that blood with horror and consternation.

Sirens wailed with ear-screeching strength. The ambulance had arrived. Eddie and Lyssa jogged to the intersection and met one of the EMTs: a burly man with a beard, and a tattoo on his neck.

“What happened?” he barked, slinging gear over his shoulder.

“I think a woman was stabbed.” Lyssa pointed at the pathway into the park. “Someone is with her now.”

The EMT grunted and helped his partner, a young woman, grab a stretcher from the back of the ambulance. More sirens filled the air. The police would be next.

Lyssa and Eddie looked at each other and started walking.

“You mentioned that other homeless women have been disappearing,” Eddie said, as a police cruiser sped past them, lights blazing. “For how long?”

It took Lyssa a moment to find her voice. “Couple weeks. I only found out today. I didn’t even know Mandy was gone. Like I said, we’re not close.”

“Then they weren’t targeted because of you.”

Lyssa touched her scarf, pained. “How do you know?”

“You weren’t aware they were missing until today.” Eddie glanced at her, his eyes dark and serious. “What’s the point of a message if the intended recipient isn’t even aware there’s one in the first place?”

He had a point, but it didn’t make her feel any better. “Finding Mandy in that park was not a coincidence.”

“So they carry an injured women with them all the time, just waiting for the right moment to spring her on you?”

Lyssa blew out her breath, frustrated. “I don’t know.”

“They must have a van,” he muttered to himself. “Especially if they’re kidnapping women off the street.”

“That part doesn’t make sense,” she admitted. “Mandy is a heroin addict. Not the kind of person the Cruor Venator would kill.”

“She only goes for doctors and lawyers?” A hint of sarcasm touched his voice.

Lyssa shrugged and nodded. “Something along those lines, yes. And kidnapping? Not her style, either. She likes to play games and pretend she’s dignified. She’ll lure the victim — or stalk, attack, and murder on-site. But throwing girls into a van. . is beneath her ego.”

Eddie stared. Lyssa’s cheeks warmed. She had said too much, again. And the way he looked at her. .

She couldn’t hide from his eyes. First in her dreams, and now here in broad daylight. If running from the Cruor Venator had been difficult all these years. . running from this man’s gaze would be impossible.

No doubt, too, he was going to ask, again, why she knew so many details about a race of witches that hardly existed anymore. What was she going to tell him this time? Too complicated? Shut up? Go away?

Go away, she thought. That would be the smart thing.

But the idea of speaking those words out loud filled her with a shocking amount of pain — as though part of her heart would be ripped to pieces. How the hell had that happened? Why him?

Because he is the right one, whispered the dragon. Have faith, for once.

Faith. What was that, again?

But Eddie surprised her.

“Okay,” he said. “What made you think, initially, that Mandy had been hurt by the Cruor Venator?”

Lyssa hesitated. “It’ll sound hokey.”

His mouth twitched. “Try me.”

“I had a vision when I touched her. I saw the blade of a Cruor Venator cutting her body.”

Amazingly, he seemed to take her seriously. “Did you see anything else?”

“Her friend, Flo.”

Eddie was silent a moment. “Let’s say all these homeless women have been taken by the Cruor Venator, and not some other crazy person. If they aren’t the typical target, then why bother?”

Lyssa said the first thing that came to mind. “Training.”

“What?”

She felt ill having to explain. “People aren’t born knowing how to kill.”

“That’s disgusting.” Eddie looked away, swallowing hard. “But if you’re right. . is she training more like Betty and Nikola?”

“I’d be shocked if she was.”

“But?”

“But it’s possible,” she admitted reluctantly. “I don’t know why she’d want to. A Cruor Venator doesn’t keep more than she can control.”

Eddie was silent a moment. “I was told they. . absorb things. . from blood. If one of them. . tasted Mandy. . could your connection to the woman have been found that way?”

“Maybe. I don’t know. Something stinks about this.”

“Besides the obvious?”

Besides everything, she wanted to say. Including what I should do about you.

Lyssa had never let anyone slip under her guard as quickly as Eddie. Here she was, telling him things no one else knew. . revealing her problems, her life. . letting him risk his life. . and she barely knew him.

She just. . couldn’t help herself. The need to share with him, to be with him, was overwhelming. Beyond instinct. Natural as breathing.

Could she even trust him?

Yes, whispered the dragon. I would kill him for you if his heart meant to hurt yours.

No, Lyssa replied. I wouldn’t let you.

As if you could prevent me, it replied, with such chilling certainty she had to stop walking and hold her head.

“What is it?” asked Eddie. His voice was low, thick with concern, and sent an aching rumble through her heart.

“You ever feel like you have a split personality inside your head?” Lyssa tried to make it sound like a joke, but he gave her an odd look that made her feel embarrassed. “Never mind.”

Eddie’s mouth softened into a faint smile. He took her right hand in his, holding it loose and warm — and then, as if that wasn’t shock enough, he kissed her palm — with breathtaking gentleness.

The heat of his touch soaked through the glove. Muscles she hadn’t even known were tense seemed to relax, and a tight knot buried deep in her chest unwound, just a little. No one had ever held that deformed hand of hers. It felt strange and good. Too good.

“I know what you’re talking about,” he said.

Hard to breathe. Lyssa felt naked in his gaze but anchored, too. More safe, more accepted, than she had in years — right now, in this moment. She didn’t know if that made her a fool or naïve — or very lucky — but it scared her enough that she pulled her hand free and backed away from him.

“Lyssa,” said Eddie, but she stepped out in the street in front of an oncoming cab. The driver barely stopped in time and leaned on his horn. Lyssa ignored his ire, slid around to the side, and got in. So did Eddie before she could shut the door.

“What are you doing?” he said to her, angry. “Running again?”

“Screw you,” she replied, even though he was right. “Get out of this cab.”

“No,” he snapped. “Forget about that. And next time, try not to get yourself run over.”

“Hey,” said the driver, flicking his fingers at them. “Take it outside or give me a place to drive. I don’t got all day.”

Neither did she, unfortunately. Eddie stared at her challengingly, and she shook her head, heart aching as she gave the cab driver the address. He accelerated so hard she slammed backward.

“Women,” he muttered, and turned up the volume on his radio — and kept turning it up — until reggae music seemed to flood every molecule of her body with the not-so-relaxing urge to claw through the divider and rip apart that radio. Her eardrums vibrated. So did her teeth.

Eddie grimaced. Moments later, she heard a loud click, and the radio quit.

The driver said, “Shit, man.”

“Check your wiring,” he told him. “Sometimes it burns.”

Lyssa stared, and he gave her a disarming smile that made all her anger at him feel petty and misplaced.

“Well, it does,” he said.

She shook her head, planting her feet on the floor, so they wouldn’t start bouncing nervously. “I need your phone.”

“You’re using it now, but not earlier?”

“Circumstances have changed. I don’t have time for pay phones, and it’s clear I’m not protecting anyone by trying.”

“So who are you calling?” Eddie gave her a surprisingly wary look as he placed the phone in her hand.

“Jimmy,” she said, wondering why he seemed relieved by her answer. “The little boy.”

She dialed his number, but the phone rang and rang. He didn’t pick up.

Icky probably needed a walk.

Maybe he went back to school.

He’s in the bathroom.

Taking a nap.

“If that kid’s not hurt, I’m killing him,” she muttered, trying again — still receiving no answer. There was no machine to leave a message. The phone rang twenty times before the call was disconnected.

“Jimmy seemed like a good kid,” Eddie said. “What little I saw of him.”

“The best. I’ve known him and his mother for about a year.” A year too long if this ended badly.

But what was I going to do? Turn my back on them? Pretend they didn’t need my help and protection in that underground hellhole? I couldn’t do that.

There are some things you can’t run from, she thought.

I wouldn’t want to, she realized.

Lyssa made another call and suffered another endless round of rings, each one driving into her skull with the same hammering force of that reggae music — only much worse. Eddie watched her with concern but kept silent. Just there. Strong, and there. Which she appreciated more than she cared to admit.

She tried Jimmy’s mother, who worked at an upscale deli in Midtown.

“Tina’s not back from her lunch break,” said the girl who answered. “Our boss is pissed.”

“How long has she been gone?”

“An hour. Bitch,” she murmured, and then, louder: “If you get hold of her, tell her she better get her ass back, like now. Dishes are piling up, and the bathroom needs new toilet paper.”

Lyssa hung up, her head pounding. “Dammit.”

“Talk to me,” Eddie said.

She glanced at the cab driver, but he was on his cell phone, making an angry speech about his radio.

“Jimmy’s mother isn’t back from lunch. That’s not like her. She takes her job too seriously. Something’s wrong. If the Cruor Venator got them. .”

Her voice choked off, her throat closing up as if actual fingers were squeezing the life out of her. Lyssa clawed at her scarf, uncaring if anyone saw her dragon scales. She couldn’t breathe.

Eddie reached out and wrapped his hand around her wrist, stilling her. No words. Just his touch. Heat seeped through her skin, deeper into muscle, bone — soothing, embracing, a sweet fire that once again made her think of kinder days, softer memories.

The knot in her throat loosened. Lyssa drew in a deep breath.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“Of course,” he murmured. “We’ll find them, Lyssa. That’s what we do.”

She took another breath. “I’m afraid that knowing me is going to ruin their lives.”

He squeezed her wrist, very gently. But there was nothing gentle about the way he looked at her.

“I’ve seen lives ruined,” he said in a too-soft voice. “I’ve seen people hurt in unspeakable ways. I know what that looks like. I know what it feels like. So when I tell you, Lyssa, that you’ve ruined nothing. . I know what I’m talking about.”

He let go of her. “Don’t blame yourself for things that are out of your control. The world is unforgiving enough.”

It was still hard to breathe, but for a different reason. “Jimmy and his mother are beneath the contempt of women like the Cruor Venator. If those witches have hurt them. . it’s because of me. To hurt me.”

“Sounds like it would be easier to kill you.”

“Yes,” she agreed.

But “easy” wasn’t the point. Death would be the last on a very long list of things that the Cruor Venator would do to her.

If you let her, murmured the dragon. You have a choice.

My mother had no choice, replied Lyssa.

You are wrong. She chose your father. She chose you. Your survival. That was a good choice. What you choose is cowardice. Because you do not trust yourself.

So true. How come, then, she was finding it easier to trust a stranger than her own heart? Why did she want to trust him. . even more then she wanted to trust herself?

It made no sense. It felt crazy.

Crazy and right.

If I could tell you my secrets, she thought at Eddie, but there was no way to explain just one part of the story without spilling the whole thing. . and that was something she could not do. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

Eddie filled up his side of the backseat, exuding calm and strength, and resolve — though the hard light in his eyes made all of that seem dangerous. “Is this another trap?”

“I don’t know.” When Lyssa dialed the phone again, her hands shook. Only this time, she got a busy signal.

“Someone’s there,” she said.

Fifteen agonizing minutes later, she was racing up three flights of stairs — oozing sweat, sick to her stomach. The elevator was too slow coming to the lobby, and she didn’t fancy the idea of being stuck in a metal box.

Eddie was right behind her, moving just as quick and silent. Waves of heat pulsed off his body — or maybe that was her, suffering the wild rise of fire in her blood. Her mouth tasted sour. Her head hurt. So did her right arm, muscles burning from her fingers to her neck.

When they reached the fourth-floor landing, Eddie grabbed her shoulder.

“Slow,” he whispered. “Don’t lose your head.”

Too late, she thought, hearing a muffled, distant scream. It sounded like Tina.

Lyssa did not run, though — not when Eddie opened the landing door and entered the corridor, not when she followed him — staring past his shoulder at the apartment door. No more screams, but she heard Tina sobbing.

Another door cracked open. A middle-aged black woman peered out, holding a cigarette between her fingers. A phone was in her other hand.

“Calling the cops,” she muttered. “Can you hear that? Quieting down, but it’s been crazy for the past hour. I like to mind my business, but that don’t sound right.”

“Ma’am,” said Eddie, in that low, quiet voice. “We are the police. We’ll handle this. Just go back inside and stay there.”

“Don’t come out, no matter what you hear,” Lyssa told her, and whatever the woman saw in her eyes made her nod real quick and close her door.

As they neared the apartment, Lyssa heard glass shatter — and a man’s muffled voice through the door.

“I fucking bought you, bitch. I married your worthless ass, and you run from me? You take my son?”

Each word was filled with venom and hate. Lyssa couldn’t imagine listening to that vomit day after day, chained to a man who treated her like garbage. It hurt. It was horrible. And she wasn’t even the target.

Lyssa glanced at Eddie, and a chill swept over her. His eyes were flat, dead, his mouth little more than a compressed line.

“That doesn’t sound like Betty or Nikola,” he said, and the barely controlled rage in his voice touched a part of her that was rough and primitive, and hungry for blood. “Is he her husband?”

“Used to be,” said Lyssa, feeling grim as death. “Tina left this piece of crap. His name’s Aaron Roacher. He likes mail-order brides who don’t speak English.”

And then it got worse.

“Don’t you touch her!” screamed Jimmy, and the rawness of his voice hit Lyssa’s heart like a hammer. “I’m not your son! I’m not!”

Tina let out wordless cry, and Aaron roared.

Lyssa closed the rest of the distance in one long stride, and slammed her right fist hard against the door. Again and again, raining down blows as inhuman strength flooded her arm. The old door shook and rattled. It hurt her hand, but she didn’t care. She was too angry.

“Hey!” she roared. “Open up!”

Dead silence. Then heavy footsteps approached.

Eddie nudged Lyssa to the other side of the door. She tried to stay focused, but her heart was pounding, a golden haze falling down over her vision. Her teeth felt sharp. The low rumble of a growl filled the air, but it wasn’t until she noticed Eddie watching her that she realized it was coming from her.

“You’re a wild woman,” he said.

“Just wait,” she muttered.

From the other side of the door, a man said, “Who’s there?”

“Police,” replied Eddie. “Someone reported a domestic disturbance.”

“Like hell. Nothing’s happening here.”

“Open the door, sir. Now.” He sounded cold, professional, and not one to be fucked with. Right then, he looked like it, too. Lean and dangerous, with shadows in his eyes.

I’m glad you’re here, she thought.

It was quiet for a moment. Until, slowly, the locks turned. Lyssa steadied herself. Eddie got even more still — and then, in a blinding flash of movement — slammed his shoulder into the door just as it cracked open.

He crashed inside, and without missing a beat reached around the door and grabbed the other man — who was still trying to recover from being knocked back into the wall. Lyssa caught a glimpse of him — huge as a football player, with fatty muscles and a thick neck, and beady eyes that looked like blue peas tucked in slabs of white meat. He had a hundred pounds on Eddie, and a good six inches — but he wasn’t as fast.

Eddie lashed out with a solid right hook, snapping Aaron’s head back. He had no chance to recover before he was slammed again in the face, again and again — and it was so quiet except for the thud and crack of Eddie’s knuckles, and the other man’s pained grunts.

Vicious. Brutal. Beautiful.

Aaron recovered enough to take a swing, but Eddie easily dodged it and kicked out hard. His boot struck the big man in the groin with enough force to make a wet, squishy sound. The man went down on his knees.

“Nice,” Lyssa said, when what she really wanted to say was Oh my God, that was incredible.

Eddie wasn’t even breathing hard. “My pleasure.”

Lyssa heard a small squeak and found Jimmy standing behind them, staring. His bottom lip was split, and there was a bruise on his face. Huge eyes. At first, filled with fear. . and then awe, as he looked at Eddie.

“Wow,” he breathed.

Eddie drew in a deep breath and went to the boy. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”

“I’m not. He deserved it.” Jimmy looked at Lyssa, and suddenly he was all kid again, vulnerable and upset. “My mom.”

My mom. Just two words, saying a million different things.

She followed him into the living room and found Tina on her knees, trying to sweep broken glass onto a newspaper. A mug had been smashed on the floor, along with several framed photos of Jimmy.

Her arms were scratched and bleeding, and covered in bruises. No other visible signs of injuries, but Lyssa knew how deceptive that was. She was a small woman, birdlike, maybe only a hundred pounds dripping wet. No match for her husband. One blow from Aaron’s meat-hook fist would probably send her flying.

Tina didn’t look up when Lyssa walked in. Her small hands were a blur as she tried to clean the glass. Tears raced down her cheeks, but her face showed no grief, no pain. Just resolve.

Glass crunched beneath her boots as Lyssa crouched. “Tina.”

“Got to clean this,” she murmured. “I don’t want Jimmy to hurt himself.”

Lyssa stared. The fight between Eddie and Aaron had been quiet, yes. . but it was almost as though she didn’t realize at all that something profound had changed in her home. Or that another person was standing there. Tina’s focus had only one note, one beat, one destination.

How many times had she been in fights like this, where her only survival mechanism was to clean up afterward, and sweep away the evidence as though it had never happened?

Worse, she had probably thought the abuse over, that she had escaped. She had let down her guard, only to have her peace and safety ripped from her.

Just like Lyssa.

Everyone runs from the pain, she thought, watching Tina sweep up that glass as though her life depended on it. I ran from mine. This is how she runs from hers.

Jimmy stood beside his mother, watching her with terrible helplessness. “It’s okay,” he said, voice breaking a little. “I have shoes on.”

At the sound of his voice, Tina shuddered and bowed her head. Her hands stilled. Lyssa held her breath, afraid to make a sound.

“I’m sorry,” his mother whispered. “I’m so sorry, Jimmy. I didn’t know he would find us.”

The boy’s face crumpled. “It’s not your fault.”

Tina finally looked at him, and tears slid down her cheeks. Her eyes were hollow, filled with despair. “You’re hurt.”

Jimmy shook his head. “No.”

She reached for him but pulled back at the last moment, like she was afraid to touch her son. Instead, she looked at Lyssa, and her gaze sharpened, as though she was only just realizing that the two of them weren’t alone.

“How did you. .?” she began, and Lyssa said, “I happened to be in the neighborhood.”

Tina frowned and rubbed a shaking hand over her face. “If you’re here, Aaron must be gone. We need. . we need to get out of here before he. .”

“No,” Lyssa said. “Stay right there.”

Terrible, pained resolve filled her eyes. “You don’t understand. I won’t let Aaron hurt my son again. I can’t.”

“Mom,” Jimmy said, with the kind of restrained breathlessness that only a twelve-year-old boy could muster. “It’s okay. Lyssa’s friend knocked him out in the hall.”

Tina stared. “What?”

Lyssa jumped in. “It’s okay, Tina. I promise.”

“Aaron’s still here?” She tried to stand, but her legs almost folded. Bits of glass were embedded in the knees of her slacks though she didn’t seem to notice. Her hands bled, too, and that bruise on her face had darkened.

“Ma’am,” said Eddie, behind them. Tina let out a small, startled gasp. Jimmy grabbed her hand tight in his.

Eddie stood just inside the living room, his face nothing but hard lines and shadows as his gaze roved from Lyssa to Tina with the same dangerous intensity that had drawn her to him in dreams.

Until, as if it was her imagination, all that power in his eyes faded away and was replaced with a deceptive softness that seemed calculated not to threaten.

“Ma’am,” he said again, with that old-fashioned, disarming politeness that he seemed to practice on every woman, despite her age. “Your husband will not bother you or your son, ever again.”

Tina blinked. “Is he dead?”

Eddie’s jaw flexed. “He’ll wish he was.”

“Wow,” said Jimmy.

Lyssa heard a faint whimper. The living room had been trashed, but she straightened a chair and found Icky hiding, his tail between his legs — and a little puddle beneath him.

“I don’t blame you,” she muttered, picking him up. Jimmy made a small sound and reached for the dog, which started wriggling with joy.

“He tried to squish him,” muttered the boy. “With his boot.”

“I’ll squish him,” said Eddie, and took Lyssa’s hand. “Excuse us for a moment.”

He pulled Lyssa across the living room, backing her against the wall. Over his shoulder, she watched Jimmy lead his mother to a chair, his every movement filled with tenderness. It broke her heart, especially when Tina gave the boy a tremendous hug that made him wriggle like the dog trapped between them.

Lyssa’s mother had hugged her like that, once upon a time.

“She needs a doctor,” she muttered.

“What she needs is to get out of this city,” Eddie replied in a quiet voice. “Right now. For your sake, and theirs.”

Lyssa exhaled slowly, and nodded. “You’re right. But they have no money.”

Eddie’s eyes softened. “My employer will take care of everything. But they can’t come back here. Forget the Cruor Venator. This place, this city, is poison for them. And so is that man.”

She glanced down the hall and found Aaron Roacher on the floor, tied with duct tape. His mouth had been covered — and his eyes, as well. He resembled a pig.

“That man deserves jail,” she whispered. “If they leave town. .”

“Nothing will change. Did Tina ever testify against him? Did she go to the police?”

Lyssa hesitated. “Not that I know. She ran when he started hitting Jimmy, but technically, they’re still married. She may not even have a green card.”

Eddie rubbed his knuckles. “If you’re worried about him getting away with this, he won’t.”

“You’re not going to. .”

“Kill him? No. I don’t need to.”

But you could, whispered the dragon. It would solve so many problems. No one would miss him.

No one. But the idea filled her with revulsion.

Your life or his. The lives of your friends. . or his. Or someone like him. There are so many cruel people in this world to choose from, sister. Kill just one of them. . and you’ll save your friends, and yourself.

Eddie touched her arm. “You went away for a moment. I’m sorry if what I said bothered you.”

“It’s not what you said, but what I was thinking.” Lyssa glanced at Aaron, who was twitching now, trying to pull his arms loose. “It wasn’t good.”

“It doesn’t have to be good if there’s a good reason.”

Lyssa gave him a startled look, and he smiled. “Try to make Tina and Jimmy comfortable. I’m going to make a few calls.”

He turned away, but she grabbed his arm.

“Eddie,” she said, but words failed her. All she could do was kiss his cheek, her lips lingering on his warm skin.

“Thank you,” she whispered in his ear.

Maybe it was her imagination, but he seemed to sway a little.

“I’m your guy,” he said, and before she could respond to that, he pulled away and walked back down the hall to take care of Aaron Roacher.