Within the Flames (17 page)

Chapter Eleven

T
he doctor never did give his name, but he was a stout Chinese man in his forties who wore a dark gray jogging outfit and a baseball cap that he tugged backward while working on Tina’s face. He liked to whistle, but he hated Icky on sight and made the occasional stupid joke about falling down stairs. It was tolerable the first time, but by the third, Lyssa was ready to strangle him.

He did a good job cleaning Tina’s cuts, though. Jimmy pressed his cheek against her arm the entire time and squeezed her hand. Lyssa retreated to the hall, where she stood with her back pressed to the front door, hugging her stomach.

She heard Aaron Roacher whimpering in the kitchen but felt only disgust for him.

Eddie found her there. When she looked at him, all she could think about was the kindness of his voice as he’d talked with Jimmy, the sincerity and strength. Even she had felt better listening to him, as though the world would be okay, no matter what.

She didn’t look down at the scars on his hand. She could picture them perfectly, and now that she knew what they were, she couldn’t imagine not having realized before.

Someone had repeatedly put out a cigarette on his hand.

< neatfont face="Times (T1)" color="#000000">
I killed a man when I was thirteen years old.

Words from his mind that had slid through hers, a million years ago on that sidewalk. It hadn’t frightened her then . . . maybe because it didn’t fit her image of him, which was calm, in control, and gentle.

But now she had a clearer understanding of what might have happened. And it broke her heart for him.

He gave her a reassuring smile, and it made him so handsome she had to look away or risk staring.

“A car is coming,” he said. “The driver does some jobs for the agency every now and then. Tina and Jimmy will be safe with him. We’ve got a private jet waiting for them at LaGuardia. One of my friends will meet them in San Francisco. They’ve got a room at the St. Regis, and we’ll rent an apartment for them before the end of the week.”

“I hate to ask for anything else, but . . .”

“She’ll have a job,” he told her. “Though she may have to go to school at the same time.”

“Tina will love that.” Lyssa’s voice barely worked. “But this apartment will need to be cleaned, too, before their roommate comes home from vacation. And then there’s Aaron . . .”

“It’ll be taken care of.” Eddie leaned on the door beside her. Heat rolled off his body, surrounding and soothing her. “We need to worry about other things. If the
Cruor Venator
can only be killed by her own kind, then we need to find one who’s on our side.”

Lyssa said nothing, but Eddie didn’t seem to notice.

“Lannes told me a
Cruor Venator
was murdered a hundred years ago. She was supposed to be bad news, but the witch who stopped her . . . never seemed to kill again. Not that anyone knew. If she’s still alive . . .”

“No,” she said, more sharply than she intended. “I wouldn’t count on that.”

“There can’t be that many witches in the world. One of them must know something.”

“You’ll get yourself killed asking.”

“Not every witch is bad. I don’t believe that.”

“You’re right. But power does weird things to people. There’s no middle ground I’ve found. You’re either extremely good with it . . . or you’re a supreme jackass.”

He made a frustrated sound. “We have to do something.”

Again, she kept silent.

Fear has its use, but cowardice has none,
her mother had once said. Quoting Gandhi, no less.

But Lyssa’s father, who was Irish, had replied,
It’s better to be a coward for a minute than dead for the rest of your life.

Which was Lyssa’s philosophy, most of the time.

Eddie studied her. “You want to run.”

He didn’t say it like he was accusing her of cowardice, but hearing those words out loud, from him, made her ashamed.

“I’m afraid,” she said. “I told you I might buckle.”

“Okay,” he replied. “I also told you we could leave.”

“But you’ll be back, won’t you?”

“I have to. People are getting hurt.”

Mandy used as bait—with other women gone missing. And even if those women weren’t the typical prey of the
Cruor Venator
, she was certain it was related. Jimmy and his mother were still at risk.

And Eddie.

“You should go,” he said. “Anywhere in the world. You choose.”

“You’re nuts.”

“Maybe.” His voice broke on the word. “I’ll find you again.”

She grabbed his wrist. “You can’t find me if you’re dead.”

He gave her a sad, crooked smile that broke her heart. “Doesn’t matter. I can’t just walk away. They’ll come after you eventually, right? I’d rather try to stop it now s stthat brokethan later.”

He freed himself from her grip, but instead of letting go, his fingers wrapped around her left hand, sliding under her glove to stroke her skin in a touch so light and gentle it could have been a kiss. It felt like one: sweet, on her soul. He didn’t look at her. He kept his gaze down, on her hand.

A connection formed between them. Sudden, bright, hot. Flooding her with emotions not her own but that suddenly mirrored her heart, in so many unspeakable ways. His voice filled her mind.

Please, God, keep her safe.

He was praying for her.

Praying. For her.

It stunned Lyssa, who listened to his voice rumble through her like thunder, accompanied by an overwhelming, heart-shattering torrent of concern and affection, and fear.

Fear, for her.

Please,
she heard him whisper, and that fear faded into longing, and heartache, and loneliness.
Please watch over her
.

Please watch over him,
she thought, holding tight to his hand.
I don’t want to lose him.

The realization staggered her. She did not want to lose him. Not yet. Never seeing this man again—the very real chance—made her heart break in ways she hadn’t thought possible.

Let go,
she told herself.
It’s better this way.

But when his hand slid from hers, and he turned away—it was not better. It was horrible. Lyssa watched him walk back down the hall to the kitchen, every nerve in her body electrified.

What would you sacrifice to keep him safe?
asked the dragon.
What price is worth paying?

I don’t know,
she thought.

You lie,
it whispered.

“Wait,” she croaked, and he stopped just at the doorway of the kitchen, watching in silence as she walked to him.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she said, and the tension leaked from his shoulders and eyes.

“I’d miss you,” he said, and looked down. “But I want you to be safe.”

“I won’t be safe anywhere I go. I’d rather be with you.”

He still did not look at her. “You can depend on me.”

“I know,” she said. “I hope one day you feel the same about me.”

Eddie finally met her gaze, and the intensity of it made her breath catch. “Lyssa.”

“I’m a coward,” she went on, needing to say the words. “If killing one person in cold blood could stop the
Cruor Venator . . .
it would be worth it, right?”

“What’s this about?”

“Just answer me.”

He touched her shoulder, sparks dancing from his fingertips. “I don’t know.”

Her throat knotted up with self-disgust. “But if it could?”

“I don’t know,” he said again, more firmly. “That’s murder.”

“That’s what it takes.”

Eddie leaned back, studying her. “Why?”

Good question.
“There’s a spell.”

“That wouldn’t require another
Cruor Venator
to kill the witch who’s hunting you?”

She closed her eyes and gave him a barely imperceptible nod of her head. A little lie. Maybe not saying it out loud didn’t count.

Eddie sighed. “You’re thinking of Aaron Roacher, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“I can’t do it. Can you?” s. Cl:la

Tears burned her eyes again. “I told you . . . I’m a coward.”

“God.” He enfolded her in his arms, holding her close and tight. “No, you’re not. How could you think that? You’re a good person, Lyssa.”

“Good won’t win this.”

Eddie’s low laughter sparked fire in her blood.

“Okay,” he said, with a smile in his voice. “But good can try, right?”

Lyssa was quite comfortable being held against his broad, hard chest—but she pulled away to stare at him. “This is not funny.”

His eyes were so warm. “Of course not. But it
is
ridiculous.”

“You’re saying there’s no such thing as magic?”

“I’m saying,” he said in a soft voice, brushing his thumb against her mouth, “that there’s no such thing as absolutes.”

He dipped his head and kissed her. No warning, no long looks. Just a light, gentle, stroke of his lips against hers—with such softness she should have felt nothing. Instead, an ache jolted through her, wild and cresting over her heart in a wave of sweet heat and pleasure.

They swayed apart, staring at each other. Eddie looked just as stunned as she felt, but there was also hunger in his eyes—and that affected her almost as much as his kiss.

In your blood,
whispered the dragon.
He is your mate.
Your father knew this when he met your mother, and that is why he never let her go.

Never let him go.

Lyssa reached for him, but Eddie was already leaning in, and this time the kiss was harder, deeper, stealing her breath away in a dizzying rush of desire. He hoisted her higher against him, and a gasp escaped her, laughter. He started laughing, too, against her mouth. It was better than any music, better than anything she had ever imagined.

His kiss, his voice, whispering in her ear, “I do believe in magic.”

His phone began ringing. sganeight="0emEddie sighed, but instead of letting her slide away, he kept one arm around her waist and held her close as he took the call. Lyssa allowed herself the moment, pressing her forehead against his chin, soaking in his heat, savoring the rise and fall of his chest.

What was she doing? This was nuts.

But she couldn’t let go. She didn’t want to.

She heard a smooth male voice on the other end of the line, but his words were muffled.

“Okay,” Eddie said, and his voice sounded different, hearing it like this, with her body against his: deeper, rougher. “They’ll be down in ten minutes. We’ll need the chloroform, too, and the wheelchair.”

He hung up. Lyssa raised her brow. “Chloroform and a wheelchair?”

“Well,” he said, “there’s only so many ways to kidnap a grown man.”

T
he last time Lyssa had seen Jimmy with his suitcase was underground, in the tunnels. Seeing it again seemed like a return to the old days, and that hurt.

The driver was a white man in his thirties, short but thick in the shoulders, with strong arms, strong legs, and a jutting jaw. His fists swung when he walked. He wore jeans and a T-shirt, and when his jacket came open for a moment, she saw a shoulder rig holding a gun.

He helped Tina into the back. The doctor had Aaron in the wheelchair, unconscious and drooling. No shirt, but a bandage had been slapped on top of the brand in his chest. He and the driver rolled him into the front seat. No one walking past seemed to pay attention. It was early evening, the time of day when shadows rolled in and lights turned on, and all anyone wanted was to get home from work.

The driver stomped into the building, where Eddie and Lyssa waited, watching. Maybe they hadn’t been followed here, maybe it didn’t matter if they had, but it seemed to Lyssa that being seen out in the open with Jimmy and his mother might classify as bad luck for them. Just in case it mattered.

“Where do I dump the trash?” asked the driver.

“Someplace frightening,” replied Eddie.

The man thought for a moment. “Yeah. He’ll be terrified.”

And then he grinned, and Lyssa saw that all his t shat0em" eeth were capped in gold.

Lyssa hugged Jimmy and kissed Icky on the head.

“You be good,” she said. “Take care of your mom.”

“I will,” he replied. Eddie crouched and shook his hand, giving the boy a steady, warm look.

“Remember,” he said.