Within the Flames (31 page)

Chapter Twenty

A
nother world, outside: a river breeze and starlight and the faintest hint of morning. No scent of blood. Lyssa shuddered when they ran from the house, full of her mother and the memory of that death-drenched room.

A scream had been building from that first taste of her mother’s blood—a scream caught in her throat, growing with each moment spent in Georgene’s presence. But now, away from her, that silent scream was becoming something else—and the moment Lyssa stepped onto the driveway, she fell to one knee, burning up. Her skin split open in seams of golden light. Bones cracked. Her heart thundered so hard she clutched her chest.

She was going to explode.

“Lyssa,” Eddie said urgently, but she shook her head and stumbled sideways, away from him. He stood too close, and Tina was in his arms. The poor woman would burn and die if Lyssa lost control.

A small, young voice rang out. Lyssa looked up, and saw Jimmy running down the driveway toward them.

“No,” she croaked, backing away. “Jesus.”

“Jimmy!” shouted Eddie. “Stay there!”

The boy did not stop. Lyssa turned, fleeing back inside the house, trying tohe ">ht= put walls between herself and the boy. Fire erupted over her skin, burning through her clothing—rising in her throat, filling that buried scream with terrible power.

She heard a screech, far away—twisting into an inhuman note of agony. Nikola, dying. Blood-prints on the floor, stinking up her nose with death.

Lyssa detonated.

Fire slammed outward in a pulse so strong the walls exploded, and furniture splintered into toothpicks. The inferno enveloped the foyer and living room in a shimmering, unending blaze—turning the hardwood floors to crumbling ash.

She watched, unable to move. Staring, lost, feeling fire swarm through the house like a long tongue, licking the air with blistering, explosive heat. Down, down the stairs into the basement, sucking out the air . . .

Hands grabbed her shoulders, dragging her backward. With that contact, a new fire rose in her blood, and she turned to find Eddie—staring into her eyes—surrounded in his own golden light.

Fire in his gaze, fire on his skin, fire burning all around him—consuming them, together. In that moment, a choking ache rose from her heart, a hunger for him that ran deeper than her need to breathe.

Somewhere distant, she heard more screams—filtered through the sizzling crackle of the burning house. Eddie’s mouth moved, but she couldn’t hear his voice. Just those twisted, strangled cries. None of them sounded like Georgene, but she couldn’t be sure.

Eddie dragged her through the blaze. The floor groaned beneath them, half-broken, burning. Stone slabs glowed.

Cool air blasted her face as they stumbled outside. Lyssa carried the fire with her, flames dancing over her naked skin. Not a stitch of clothing left, except for the stubborn remains of Eddie’s jacket.

Eddie also burned, but some of his clothes were still intact. Lyssa tried to beat out the flames. It was a losing battle. He tore off the remains of his sweatshirt.

Jimmy sat in the car, face pressed to the glass. Engine running, headlights blazing. Lyssa locked gazes with him, taking in his horror and shock, suffering the same emotions as the heat of the burning house rushed over her naked body.

“Come on,” Eddie said in a rough voice.

“I’ll frighten him,” she mumbled, trying to pull away.

His grip on her arm tightened. “No. He worships you.”

“He shouldn’t be here. What were you thinking?”

“I was thinking that it hurts more to be useless.” Eddie leaned in, his gaze terrible with concern. “I know how he feels.”

Jimmy shoved open the car door, half-tumbling out before stopping, staring.

“Shit,” he squeaked.

Lyssa tore her gaze from Eddie. “Watch your mouth. And get back in the car.”

He cringed. “You’re
burning.
”

Mustering all her strength, she focused on the fire flowing over her skin and took a deep breath, fighting to draw it down. Light sputtered, gasping in puffs and spurts—but after a long moment, the flames receded. The effort stole more strength than the explosion. Lyssa hunched over, barely able to stay upright. A chill punctured her bones.

Somehow, Eddie got her to the car and pushed her into the backseat. Lyssa blinked blearily at the flames engulfing the house, feeling very distant from the blaze.

An immense cracking sound filled the air.

The burning house tilted sideways: roof sinking, collapsing, as the entire structure slid down the hill, burning chunks of wreckage breaking apart to tumble toward the river. Immense, ridiculous, as though from some movie.

Except it was real. Her fault. She knew that. But nothing in her seemed to care. Instead, all she felt was a sense of deep satisfaction and
rightness.

Her mother had once said that dragon fire was pure. Pure enough to kill a shadow.

Lyssa hoped that was true.

A
t the first gas station they found, Eddie asked Jimmy to get out and use the pay phone to make a collect call. His phone had burned, along with his wallet. He parked the stolen car on the outskirts of the lot. The sky was growing lighter. Lyssa hoped no one could see them from the road. She was naked. Eddie a little less so, but this wasn’t a beach in Hawaii.

Lyssa slouch">Lawaed in the back with her arms crossed over her breasts. Tina took up the rest of the seat. She was still unconscious and smelled like blood. The bitter scent made Lyssa sick, and she had the window rolled partially down. Even the nearby Dumpster smelled good in comparison.

Icky sat in the front seat, whining. Eddie scratched his ears. There was a line between his eyes that hadn’t been there when Lyssa first met him. She wondered how her own face had aged. She felt older by a hundred years—mostly on the inside, in her heart.

“I had my chance,” she murmured. “I looked Georgene in the face—and still wasn’t able to do what was required.”

“You act as though
not killing
was a bad thing,” Eddie said softly.

“She won’t stop. We’re back to square one. I told myself I was done running, that I’d finish it, once and for all.”

“So, what? You would have killed a friend in cold blood? That would make things better?”

She shuddered, unable to look at Tina. “No.”

“Exactly. We’ll find another way.”

“It makes me feel weak.”

“I know,” he said. “But you’re not.”

Lyssa leaned around to watch Jimmy at the pay phone. “How long do you think it will take him?”

“Why?”

“I want to erase Tina’s memories.”

Eddie turned to look at her. “You can do that?”

“It’s like cutting threads, then absorbing them. It’s what a
Cruor Venator
does when she kills. She absorbs and steals, until, at the last moment of death, the victim doesn’t even remember his or her own name. Everything is gone.” Lyssa had trouble meeting his gaze. “Does that bother you?”

“Be more specific,” he replied. “What you want to know is whether or not it bothers me that you’re a
Cruor Venator.
”

“Okay, yes. Does it?”

Eddie gave her an incredulous look. “Seriously? Get real.”

Lyssa stared, then leaned forward to kiss him. She couldn’t quite reach his mouth, so she had to settle for a spot between his nose and cheek. Their breath mingled, rich and warm—and his sigh as she kissed him again, this time beneath his eye, was more healing than anything she could have imagined.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you, for being my dream come true.”

“I’m no one’s dream,” he murmured gruffly.

She tugged his ear, gently. “You’re mine.”

Before he could say anything, she leaned back into the seat—heart pounding, cheeks flushed. “Do I have time?”

He touched his face where she had kissed him. “A few minutes. Have you ever . . .”

“No. I’m not sure I should start now, but . . . Tina deserves a second chance. So does Jimmy.”

“You won’t erase his memory, will you?”

“He can keep a secret.”

Eddie smiled. “Every good detective can.”

Lyssa rubbed away her own smile with the back of her hand. “I think he can handle what he saw. Even the fire and my arm. But Tina was down in that room, with the blood . . .”

She stopped, unable to finish, and reached out to cut the unconscious woman’s hand. Blood welled, tipping a claw. But instead of licking it off, she pressed her mouth directly to the wound.

Power filled her, but it was easier somehow to accept it into her body. That, and the fact that Tina was only human, and the taste was different.

Lyssa found the memories quickly: sharp, bright, floating on the surface of her mind. She felt Tina’s horror, her fear for her son . . .

. . . she saw Flo’s face, covered in blood . . .

. . . and heard the
Cruor Venator
whisper, “
What I am . . . is what wil;. align="jul survive the world.
I will grow fat on death and fear . . .”

Right before she slammed the blade into Flo’s chest.

Lyssa tore those memories loose from Tina’s mind and ate them. Then, she went looking for more.

Two minutes later, she was done.

Tina still slept, but the lines in her face had smoothed, and her breathing was easier. Lyssa wished she could say the same for herself.

Eddie reached back to wrap his fingers around her hand. “Okay?”

“Okay,” she told him wearily, “but
I’d
like to forget the things I saw in her mind.”

“I’m sorry.”

She shook her head. “My mother did this, sometimes. Before she met my father, anyway. When she lived in Europe after the First and Second World Wars, people would come to her . . . knowing she had a peculiar gift . . . and beg her to steal their memories of the war. To just . . . erase it all . . . so they could move on with their lives.”

“She didn’t think it was better to remember?”

“She refused some people. Others, no. She also believed in second chances, for obvious reasons.”

“But she had to live with
their
nightmares.”

Lyssa closed her eyes. “I asked her about that once. She said it was nothing compared to what she had to live with after killing the other
Cruor Venator.
That
woman’s mind . . . she said . . . was too vile to comprehend. That
trying
would be enough to make a person unclean.”

“You mother was tough.”

“I will never be as strong as her.”

“I doubt she would agree.”

Lyssa’s mouth softened into a smile. “You’re probably right. But she’d be biased. And so are you.”

“No,” he said, kissing her hand. “Not even a little.”

Jimmy ran back, his sweatshirt sleeves flopping wildly over his hands. Breathless when he got back into the car, he scooped Icky into his lap.

“I got her,” he said, with a hint of pride. “Serena? She said that someone named Roland called her, and she flew into New York an hour ago. She’ll be here soon.”

“Huh. What else?”

“I asked her if she was with the FBI, and she said it was better than that.”

Eddie gave him a wary look. “What
did
she tell you?”

“Mercenary.” Jimmy seemed totally fine with that and looked back at his mom. “Is she okay?”

“Better.” Lyssa wondered who Serena was. “She woke up for just a minute while you were gone, but didn’t remember anything about what happened. When you talk to her . . .”

“I’ll be careful,” said the boy. “I don’t want her to be more scared.”

But a moment later, he gave Lyssa a hesitant look. “You didn’t really see a drug deal . . . did you?”

Lyssa chewed the inside of her cheek. “Because of my arm, you mean?”

“It looks real. Can I touch it?”

Eddie’s mouth twitched. She took a breath and extended her right hand.

Jimmy’s eyes got big as he stared at her reptilian scales and sharp golden claws. He grazed them, lightly, with his fingertips. It tickled.

“Wow,” he breathed. “Did someone do experiments on you? Is that why they were really after you? Like, the cops were part of a conspiracy?”

What a kid,
Eddie thought.

Lyssa said, “Yes. You won’t tell anyone, will you?”

“No way.” Jimmy hugged Icky tighter. “Are we safe now?”

No,
she thought.
I haven’t killed the Cruor Venator.

She met Eddie’s gaze and saw his concern.

“Yes,” she lied again. “You’re safe.”