Mercy Burns

Chapter Thirteen

Waking was a slow and painful business. My head felt as if it were stuck in the middle of two bass drums, and the reverberations were making my eyes water. The rest of me fared no better—it felt like I’d been hit by a truck. Again.

Add to that the fact that my flesh was so cold my fingers and toes were aching from it, and you had one big bundle of misery.

It was that factor, more than anything else, that had awareness surging. Why was I so damn cold? It was a hot day and I was draman. There was no way I should have been this cold.

I forced my eyelids open. Darkness greeted me. Darkness and air so cold every breath hurt.

Memories surged, reminding me of another time when the darkness had been all-encompassing and the air so cold it could freeze the insides.

I was in another freezer.

Oh, fuck.

I closed my eyes against the surge of panic. I wasn’t alone. Rainey might not be here to rescue me this time, but Damon was. He’d come. He wouldn’t let me freeze.

I just had to wait. I just had to remain calm. I gulped down several freezing breaths, then forced myself upright. My fingers stuck to the shelf and, as I tore them away, left flesh behind.

I swore and reached for my flames.

To find nothing but ashes.

It was a realization that hit like a punch to the gut. For several seconds, I couldn’t even breathe. Panic rolled through me, and it was all I could do not to start screaming. I’d only survived last time thanks to my flames; without them, I was dead.

No. I won’t die. I won’t let him win. He didn’t last time and he wouldn’t now. My flames had been stolen, not destroyed. The dragon still lay deep inside; she was slumbering, not gone forever.

She would recover, albeit slowly.

Damn it, I had to get out of this freezer.

I rubbed my arms to get some blood flowing back into my limbs, glad that my captors had at least left me fully clothed. I might not have woken otherwise.

My fingertips began tingling—stinging—which at least chased away the numbness. I thrust upright, but my feet felt like lead and I almost fell over again. I stamped them hard and wriggled my toes to get some blood flowing. After a few minutes, they came back to aching life. I raised my arms, sweeping ahead of me as I walked carefully forward. Three steps, and I hit a wall. I followed it along, feeling with my fingertips and wishing I could see something, anything. But the damn fridge was darker than night, and if there was a door then it was well and truly sealed.

I found a shelf, the metal as cold as the rest of this place, and felt along it. Plastic-wrapped packages and various-size boxes were stacked in what felt like an orderly arrangement. I continued along and found the junction of the walls. Following the second one soon had me touching rubber, then a door release. Relief slithered through me, and it wasn’t cold that had my fingers trembling as I hit the emergency release mechanism.

Only nothing happened. The door remained firmly closed.

God, no.

I hit it again, with the same result. The fear and panic rose again and I hit the door as hard as I could, needing to get out of this icy hellhole. And then I hit it again, and again, and again, until the door was dented, my knuckles were bleeding, and the pain was so bad that common sense crawled over the panic and I regained control.

Hitting the door wasn’t going to get me out of here, and the sooner I accepted that and concentrated on surviving, the better off I’d be.

Seth might want me dead, but Hannish wouldn’t. Not yet. Not until they knew what I knew and who I’d talked to. I had to believe that. Angus had said as much, and I had no doubt it was as true now as it was then.

So, this chill was merely their way of insuring I was kept scared and helpless. My past aside, dragons, darkness, and chill was not a good combination. Under normal circumstances, it would render any one of us helpless.

But my flames had been my only major defense for more years than I could even remember, and while my brother had taught me to fight, that skill had come later in life, after I’d learned control over my fire. And while even I couldn’t totally refuel myself in this kind of hell, I could keep myself alive longer than most.

I just had to stave off panic and think.

I felt my way back to the little metal bench and sat down. The chill wrapped around me but I ignored it, closing my eyes and reaching deep within to the embers of the dragon. She was my heart, my soul, and she could warm me, even in this state. All I had to do was channel energy back into her, feeding the flames and directing the heat of them outward to my extremities, keeping the dangerous cold at bay.

It took a while, but gradually the embers began to burn brighter, and the heat—though nowhere near even quarter strength—slithered through my body, chasing the cold from my fingers, making my toes ache with renewed life.

Enough to keep me awake.

Enough to keep me alive.

I couldn’t keep this up forever, though, and even as I concentrated on channeling the energy that fed the life-giving flames, part of me was praying that my captors came to check on me sooner rather than later.

It seemed like an age before my prayers were answered, but, eventually, the scuffle of movement came from outside my prison. In my disconnected state, it seemed like they approached and then moved away again. Something creaked harshly, then the heat of two men flooded the darkness, hitting me with all the force of an express train.

I breathed deep, sucking in the scent of them, letting the heat radiating off them slither through me. It wasn’t anywhere near enough to fan the fires to life, but it was a start.

“She’d better not be a popsicle. I will not be happy if you’ve killed her.”

The voice was rich and arrogant and oh-so-familiar.

Seth.

The urge to open my eyes was almost overwhelming, but I resisted.

After expending so much energy on keeping warm, I probably wouldn’t be much of a threat to them, but if I could just get them a little closer, I might be able to steal a little of their heat. And I needed that heat. Needed it bad.

So I kept still, my eyes closed, and waited.

“She’s alive.” It was the voice I’d heard speaking to Ralph over the speaker. “You can see her breathing.”

They came closer, their footsteps echoing harshly in the boxed stillness. I desperately wanted to jump up and grab one of them, but again I restrained the urge, even though the effort left me trembling. I could only hope it wasn’t showing. They might not get too close if they realized just how alert I was.

The two men halted. Their scents hit me, filling each breath with musk, sunshine, and sage.

The sage was Seth. Even smelling it had an echo of pain slithering along the long-healed, S-shaped scar down my back.

But then, Seth had never really played on the same sane team as the rest of us. He was probably grinning like a madman right now at the mere thought of what all this cold was doing to me, and what memories it was bringing back.

“Wake her up,” he said, his voice as cold as the air I was breathing.

The other man grunted and stepped forward. The heat of him was fierce against my skin and the inner trembling grew. I needed—wanted—that warmth.

He reached out—something I felt rather than saw—and grabbed my shoulder, shaking me roughly. My hand shot out and I latched on to his arm, gripping him so tightly I swear his bones cracked. But the moment my fingers touched his flesh, the dragon within sprang to life, sweeping into his body, sucking at his flames and drawing them back into mine. It was a fierce and ugly attack, because I didn’t have much time.

He yelled—screamed—then his open hand smacked into the side of my face. My head snapped around and darkness loomed, but I held on grimly—both to consciousness and his arm.

He hit me again, this time harder, breaking my grip and leaving my cheek aching and my head ringing. I swear I heard a roar of anger within that ringing, but as I blinked back tears, it faded, leaving only a distant touch of thunder rolling through my mind.

Damon, I thought, for no particular reason.

And yet, if he knew what was going on, why hadn’t he come to rescue me? What the hell was he waiting for?

Answers?

That had to be it. He was a muerte, first and foremost, and his allegiance lay with the council, not to any one person and certainly not to me. Given the basic choice between saving me and getting answers, there was no choice.

I blinked back tears, not entirely sure whether they were from my aching cheek or the stark knowledge that I would never come first in Damon’s world, and opened my eyes.

“Well, well,” Seth said. “It seems our little draman was foxing us.”

He’d changed in the years since I’d last seen him. His nose was sharper, his cheeks more angular, and his body more muscular. He was obviously wearing contacts, because his eyes were blue instead of gray, and his hair had also changed—deep red rather than the dark gold he’d been born with. But the cold, unfeeling air that clung to him like a storm cloud was the same, as was the thin, straight set of his lips.

“I should have realized from the beginning that this insanity had your mark, Seth.”

God, it hurt to remember that I’d once foolishly thought—however briefly—that this dragon had actually liked me. Stupid is the only word that adequately describes it—although even I was human enough to be flattered by the attentions of a dragon who, at the time, had been one of the “popular” kids.

“I have to admit to a little disappointment that you didn’t catch on sooner.” He crossed his arms, allowing a brief glimpse of his left hand—a hand that was twisted and scarred. My work, and one of the main reasons for his hatred of me. The other was my refusal of his advances. Seth didn’t like to be told no. Of course, it was his inability to accept that word that had led to the scarring.

“Especially,” he continued, a slight smile touching one corner of his lips—only it held no warmth, no compassion, just the chilling sense of superiority that was so much a part of this man—“after being locked in that metal-lined cellar. It was a particularly delicious salute to the past, didn’t you think?”

I didn’t say anything. There wasn’t much to say.

“And Leon certainly hasn’t changed that much, so it was surprising that you didn’t recognize him in the truck.” He paused, and something cold and cruel twitched his lips. “He did so enjoy ramming into the two of you.”

Something close to excitement leaped through me. “So you ordered the hit? Not Hannish?”

His smile was arrogant. Overconfident. It had been his downfall once before—and would be again, hopefully. “Hannish was foolish enough to believe it was better to let the two of you wander around aimlessly, but he doesn’t know your tenacity like I do.”

I briefly closed my eyes. One death stood between me and saving Rainey’s soul. I didn’t have to kill Hannish—didn’t have to kill a king’s son.

Only Seth, who might also be a king’s son, but as far as I knew, he wasn’t heir—even if he intended to be.

Seth added, “Of course, I did have to reprimand him for not checking that both of you were dead.”

“Which you no doubt enjoyed doing.” My smile was just as cruel and harsh as his. “But I bet you didn’t enjoy it half as much as we enjoyed killing his fire, breaking his body, and then flying him out to sea to drown.”

The barb hit home. His eyes narrowed fractionally and his anger stirred the air. Most people might have missed the signs, but I knew this man very well.

And he had cared for Leon, although he would never admit it. They weren’t mates in the soul-mate sense of the word, but as bisexual males who didn’t really care where they took their pleasure from, they’d been enjoying each other’s company for most of their lives.

“That,” he said heavily, “was a mistake on your part. I might have let you live otherwise.”

I snorted softly. Given our past history, I was never likely to believe that. “I’m sure Leon’s ghost will be pleased to see how badly you’re taking his death.”

He shrugged, a seemingly casual movement that was oddly edged with anger. “Sometimes sacrifices must be made if we wish our plans to come to fruition.”

Meaning that, even though he cared for Leon, not even the man who’d been his lover for over twenty years was going to get in his way.

“Of course,” he continued, “now that I have decided to kill you, I shall insure your death is a long and painful one. He’d appreciate that.”

I’m sure he would. “Was Leon aware that he was bait?”

“Of course. But he was extremely confident in his ability to handle the muerte.” His gaze pinned me. “Tell me, where exactly did you dump him?”

“That, I can’t say. I can’t fly, remember?”

“Ah, yes. It was such fun prodding Waylin to drop you mid-flight. A shame your brother intervened.” His voice was almost philosophical, yet the anger remained, burning deep in his eyes. “I shall try to retrieve Leon. He was a good lieutenant. Hell, I might even try and save his soul, once we kill the muerte.”

There was nothing I could say that wouldn’t actually get me into more trouble, so I kept my mouth shut and my arms crossed. They couldn’t see my hands and didn’t know that the heat I’d stolen now burned in readiness. I could protect myself if I needed to.

But I was no longer alone in this battle.

Damon was out there and on the move. The awareness of his presence was a distant but ever-strengthening song that made my inner dragon want to dance.

Seth glanced briefly at his watch. “As much as I’m enjoying reliving old times, I really need to get moving. Tomi, if she moves, shoot her.”

Shoot her, not kill her, I noted. But Seth was like that. Maiming always seemed to taste better to him than actual death. “Why am I here, Seth?”

“Two reasons,” he said, almost cheerfully. “First, you’re bait for the muerte.”

I laughed. “If you think Damon will go out of his way to save my butt, you’re chasing down the wrong street.”

“Maybe, but I do think he’d go out of his way to find the leaders of this little operation, and here I am, in a nice little package.”

“And if you think he’s dumb enough to simply walk into a trap, you’re deluded.”

“We caught him once, dear Mercy, and I believe we can catch him again.”

I didn’t. And we’d see soon enough which of us was right.

“So, just how do you plan to take over the Jamieson clique? Because that’s you’re intention, isn’t it?”

He raised an eyebrow. “You know more than we presumed. Or did Leon talk too much?”

“Leon couldn’t do much of anything once we’d finished with him.” They weren’t wise words, but I couldn’t help the urge to bait him.

He merely smiled. It was a cold, cruel thing, and a chill ran down my spine. “Those actions will haunt you when your time comes, Mercy.”

The chill increased. I ignored it, keeping my voice even as I said, “Our king is never going to name you heir.”

“Oh, but he already has. Even if he doesn’t know it yet.”

I frowned, and he laughed. “It’s always amusing how little you draman know about the culture you live in. Kings name heirs in legal documents kept in the council vaults. They are easy enough to access if you know the right people to bribe, and even easier to alter if you know a good forger.”

So one step in the plan was already completed. I wondered how much time our king had left; how much time Marcus Valorn had left. If we didn’t catch Hannish, he might yet go ahead with the plot, with or without the backing of the Jamieson clique. After all, we had no real evidence connecting him to any of this as yet.

But maybe Damon didn’t need it. Maybe Hannish would simply disappear again.

“So why kill the draman in Stillwater and Desert Springs? Couldn’t you have just relocated them?”

“They refused to sell their land.” He shrugged. “They paid the price for that refusal.”

“But why take that risk?”

He snorted. “What risk? Jamieson wiped out the Whale Point settlement years ago, and not one council member bothered investigating it.”

“You’re wrong. The council has been watching Jamieson—and our king—ever since.”

“Yeah? And done what, precisely?” His voice was mocking. “It was a draman settlement, like Stillwater and Desert Springs. We both know draman don’t matter.”

Well, he was at least right about that. “But how does killing them make anything any better? The land would be bequeathed to their heirs, not you.”

Seth raised an eyebrow. “Would you hang on to land on which your whole family had been slaughtered?”

The answer was no, and we both knew it. There would be too many ghosts living on this land for anyone with even a hint of dragon blood to remain.

I would feel them at night’s onset, because the time between day and night gave every dragon power, even those caught between worlds, but I wondered if Seth would. Could someone who appeared to have no connection to life really be aware of those who lingered in death?

My gaze flickered past him, studying the view beyond the fridge’s doorway. Flags of red and gold were beginning to tint the horizon, meaning the night and the shadows would soon be gone. If Damon was going to make a move, then he’d better do it soon.

I met Seth’s gaze again. “So you simply stepped in and bought the land from the surviving heirs? Where the hell did you get that sort of money? And how can you even sleep at night?”

“We have our backers, Mercy, and I sleep very well, trust me.”

Of that I had no doubt. A man so out of touch with anything resembling humanity wasn’t ever likely to be attacked by guilt. “Even so, you can’t possibly think the other cliques are going to let two murderers usurp the council.”

“Oh, but they already have. I’m sure the muerte has already mentioned Montana. It set a precedent—one the current kings will sorely regret.” His smile was cold and arrogant. “Our king’s succession document is not the only one that has been changed.”

So Damon’s guess had been right. This was about taking over the council. “The council knows about the plot. You won’t succeed.”

He gave me a condescending smile. “If the council knew, the muertes would have been unleashed and we would be dead. No, this will be done properly, the deaths will all take time and look accidental, and no one will be the wiser. Not until it is far too late, anyway.”

I glanced past him again, studying the growing shadows and wondering what the hell Damon was doing. His song continued to reverberate through my soul, growing in strength, but it gave me no real idea of his location. He could have been just outside the door for all I knew.

“The mere fact that it’s you who’s becoming one of the kings is reason enough to stop this mad scheme.” His attitude toward draman was worse than most. “You said there were two reasons I’m here.”

“The other is, of course, information. We made the mistake of trying to kill you far too early once before. We shall not make the same mistake again.”

“What do you need to know?” I asked, my gaze shifting briefly as one of the shadows behind him moved ever so slightly.

Damon, here in this room. My inner dragon felt him, but there was no sense of awareness otherwise, no scent to give him away. He was a shadow who didn’t seem to exist in any physical way. Part of me wanted to dance, the rest of me just tensed up. I knew a muerte should have been more than capable of taking out a couple of dragons, but Seth had never been just an ordinary dragon.

It was a point he proved by suddenly producing a gun from under his jacket and spinning around. The sound of the shot reverberated loudly in the metal confines of the refrigerator and light flared briefly, causing little pinpoints of brightness to momentarily burn into my retinas. Fear twisted my heart. But I thrust it aside and launched myself at Tomi, who was slower on the uptake than Seth and yet probably no less deadly.

Even with the heat I’d stolen, my reflexes were still far too slow. Seth saw me coming and twisted around, firing the gun a second time. I twisted around, felt the bullet burn past me, leaving behind a stinging, bloody streak on my side. I fell into Tomi and he wrapped an arm opportunistically around my neck, but I grabbed the hand holding the weapon, forcing the gun up as he fired. The bullet bit through the ceiling above us and bits of metal and freezer lining showered down.

“Let go, bitch,” he muttered, shaking me roughly from side to side like a rag doll.

“Not on your goddamn life.”

The words were forced through clenched teeth as I fought to retain control of his hand while keeping my shoulders hunched in an effort to stop him from strangling me.

I was vaguely aware of Seth fighting with Damon, who was still little more than a shadow, but that awareness bloomed as the two of them hit us. The sheer force of their weight sent us all sprawling to the floor, with me on the bottom. For several seconds, stars danced across my vision and my breath came as little more than labored grunts. Even so, my dragon snapped to life, the contact with Tomi allowing her to suck in more of his heat. He swore softly and thrust an elbow backward; the blow barely missed my cheek. Body weight shifted, then Seth was up and running, with the shadow that was Damon in pursuit.

Leaving me with Tomi.

I wrapped an arm around his neck and hung on grimly as he struggled and swore. His body flamed, and the heat of him burned against my skin—a delicious fire that helped melt more of the iciness from my bones.

He snuffed it out the minute he realized he was helping rather than hindering me, then somehow wrenched his arm around and fired at my legs. The bullet bit into the side of my calf, and pain bloomed, forcing a yelp from my lips. My grip weakened. He scrambled up in an instant but I rose with him, striking low and hard at his kidneys. He fell backward again, forcing me to sidestep in a hurry. As he hit the floor, I stuck again—this time with two stiffened fingers at the point just below his Adam’s apple. It left him gasping for air, and I used those few precious seconds to rip the gun from his hand then leap over his body and bolt for the door. I had barely closed and locked it before his weight hit the other side.

“Bitch!” he yelled, “Let me out.”

“Not on your goddamn life,” I muttered, glancing down at the gun in my hand, then dropping it into the barrel of water at the end of the building.

For a moment I did nothing more than stand there, sucking in the ever-growing power of the dawn. It chased away the last of the cold and stoked the embers deep in my soul.

Then I turned around and looked for Damon and Seth. A scream of inhuman rage jerked my gaze skyward, and my heart just about slammed into my throat. High above me, two dragons battled, one gold, one black, both equally huge.

Seth screamed again, wheeling about in the brightening skies, slashing at Damon’s dark hide with razor-sharp claws. He caught flesh, tearing deep, and blood sprayed. A scream tore out of my throat, but I clapped a hand over my mouth, stopping it before it could pass my lips. Damon didn’t need any distractions right now, and Seth certainly didn’t need to know I was out of the fridge and free.

Damon dived, the growing sunlight playing across his dark scales, setting them ablaze with fires of purple and red. He twisted around, then somehow belly-rolled, coming up under Seth. His bared teeth sank deep into the other dragon’s tender underside, then he shook his head, whipping Seth to and fro. Seth’s fury boiled across the air, his scream so high it hurt to hear it. His claws raked the air, missing Damon’s bleeding side by mere inches, then he lashed out with his tail, the whiplike strike forcing Damon to release him. Damon dropped away, spitting out a chunk of flesh. Then, with a mighty sweep of his wings, he drove upward, obviously trying to get above Seth.

Seth saw him and banked around, coming in fast, teeth bared and a blazing look of hatred twisting his serpentine features. Damon slashed with his claws and spun away, still driving upward, still trying to get the advantage of height.

But the gold dragon was just as fast as the black.

Maybe I could do something about that. Maybe I could distract him enough to give Damon the upper hand.

I spread my arms wide and called the power of the dawn, letting it burn unchecked through my body—a maelstrom of energy that my dragon struggled to contain.

When I opened my eyes, the black dragon was chasing the gold, the powerful sweep of their wings causing wind to batter the trees and rooftops below them as they swept down from the sky.

I clenched my fists, heat blazing across my fingertips—a whirlpool of power that made my hands glow. Closer and closer the two dragons came, until the air around me filled with dirt and debris and all I could see was the fury in the gold dragon’s eyes.

I raised my hands and flung a wide band of flames directly at his face. Even as they arced upward, I reached deeper into myself, gathering all the energy I had, channeling it into my fingertips and then outward—this time as two needle-sharp spears that moved with blinding speed.

The broad band of flames slapped across Seth’s face. He snorted, shaking his head, his scales absorbing the impact, using it to fuel his own energy.

But he didn’t see the second, smaller spears. He couldn’t have, because he looked right back at me. And in that moment, the spears hit, burning deep into his retinas and destroying his sight.

He screamed—a harsh and painful sound. His wings jerked upward and he struggled to maintain position. And that was when Damon hit him, his claws sinking deep into Seth’s back, the weight forcing him earthward as Damon’s head snaked around and latched on to Seth’s throat.

They hit the dirt so hard the earth under my feet shuddered, and went rolling in a tangle of bodies and legs that made me fear for Damon’s wings. Blood spurted and there was another horrible scream that ended abruptly as Damon bit again.

The gold dragon stilled.

The black dragon struggled to untangle himself from the other then rose, one wing dragging as the blue shape-shifting fire began to crawl across his body, encasing him in its unearthly light as he transformed from dragon to human.

I was limping toward him before that transformation was completed, and launched myself at him the minute he reappeared. He grunted, a sound that contained pain, and yet his good arm held me with a fierceness that said he didn’t care.

“Thank God it’s over,” I murmured, trembling as I wrapped my arms around his neck and held on tight. He smelled of sweat and blood and fading anger, and never in my life had I inhaled anything sweeter.

For several seconds he didn’t say anything, just held on tight. In that moment, it would have been very easy to believe I was the most precious thing in his world.

After several minutes more, he shifted back slightly, then lifted my chin with a gentle finger and kissed me.

It was a kiss that was rich and warm, sweet and yet so filled with emotion that it made my heart ache. A kiss that said so much, yet one that left so much more unsaid.

When we finally parted, he brushed my cheek with the back of his hand, then stepped away and said, “I have to go.”

No. Not so soon. It can’t be over so soon. “But your arm is broken. You can’t fly.”

“I can steal a car, and there’s a medical kit in one of the bunk rooms. I can reset broken bones. It won’t be the first time I’ve done it.”

“But—”

He touched my lips gently, silencing me. “It’s not over yet. Hannish still needs to be caught—and now, before he has any chance to run.”

“But the only real evidence we have that Hannish is involved is the land purchase documents. Both Seth and Leon are dead, so they can’t really testify against him.” I hesitated, then added, “And the council isn’t likely to give too much credit to what either Tomi or I say. We don’t matter in their eyes.”

“You matter,” he said, voice gentle and dark eyes suddenly blazing with emotion. “Don’t ever believe otherwise.”

Say the words, part of me wanted to beg. Admit what you feel. But his admitting what he felt was a moot point, so I held my tongue. He was still going to walk away regardless. He’d decided that long before we’d met, and I had no reason to believe anything we’d shared would change that.

Not even the fact that his song rang clear and true in my mind.

“No matter what you might think, the council is not likely to take the word of two draman against that of a king’s heir,” I said softly, “which means it comes down to your word against his.”

“Not so,” Damon said. “Didn’t you wonder why I left you in that fridge, and in Seth’s hands, for so long?”

I studied him, hating the distance he was keeping between us and wishing I had the courage to lessen it myself. But I didn’t want him retreating any farther, and I suspected that’s just what would happen if I did attempt to move closer. “Well, now that you mentioned it, I think I did throw a few curses your way for not riding to the rescue sooner than you did.”

He smiled. “The ability to shadow is not the only reason certain dragons are chosen for this job.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Well, what a surprise. There’s something else you’ve failed to tell me.”

He laughed—a warm, rich sound that sent delighted shivers racing across my skin. “You have no idea just how much I actually have told you. More than anyone else, even my family.”

Maybe he had, but it wasn’t nearly enough, because he wasn’t telling me the most important thing of all.

He wasn’t telling me what he felt.

It didn’t matter that his emotions were evident in his kiss and his touch, or in the way we were so in tune with each other. I still needed to hear those words. Maybe there wasn’t any hope for the two of us, but surely he could just admit what he felt. I wanted to hear it, just once, so the words would keep me warm through the long nights ahead.

That wasn’t asking too much, was it?

But he didn’t say the words and probably never would. For several seconds I had to resist the urge to just turn and run from this man and the heartache that was waiting.

In the end, I simply asked, “So tell me what else muertes can do, and how it will solve the problem.”

His gaze flicked down my body, as if he had been expecting me to say something else. And maybe he had been. It wouldn’t have been the first time he’d sensed what I’d really wanted to say.

But, like me, he held his thoughts back, and simply said, “Muertes can link to broadcasters.”

I raised my eyebrows. “What the hell is a broadcaster?”

“Broadcasting is a psychic skill, and those who have it can telepathically link to several people at once.”

The delay suddenly made all sorts of sense. “Meaning you linked to this broadcaster while hidden in the shadows, and whoever he was linked to heard the whole of it?”

“Yes—both this morning, and when I was questioning Leon. The twelve members of the council heard every word said. Hannish’s fate has already been decided.”

“And now you have to execute that decision?”

“Yes.”

“And afterward?”

He knew what I meant, and brushed his knuckles lightly against my cheek, letting them slide down to my chin. “There is no afterward, Mercy. You know that.”

I stepped back, away from his reach, away from the smell and heat of him. “There’s one other thing you forgot to tell me about muertes, Damon.”

His fingers twitched, as if he were tempted to reach for me again, then he dropped his hand and simply said, “What?”

“You never told me they were cowards.”

“Mercy—”

“Don’t bother,” I cut in, taking another step back and steeling myself against the rising ache in my heart. An ache that pierced like a knife. “You may not be afraid of death, Damon, but you’re sure as hell afraid of life.”

This time he did reach for me, but I slapped his hand away. “Nothing you say or do can alter the truth. You’re walking away to protect yourself, not me. You’re afraid to love because you’re afraid to lose. That’s cowardice, Damon, nothing more.”

“Mercy, that’s not true. What I do—”

“Is an excuse. One you can keep on believing, but don’t expect anyone else to.” I took another step, my eyes stinging with tears I refused to let fall. “Goodbye, Damon.”

With that, I turned and walked away. The air was filled with turmoil—his and mine—but he didn’t move, he didn’t stop me, and I kept on walking.

My dreams might be ashes and my world might be falling apart, but I still had the soul of a friend to save and less than twenty-four hours left to find the point where our car had gone off the road.

That, at least, gave me something to focus on.

I could worry about the rest of it later.