Mercy Burns

Chapter Six

“Anything else I can help you with?” the waiter said, a too-cheery smile plastered on his face as he placed the rich-looking cake on the table.

“No, thanks,” Damon said, a touch impatiently. When the waiter left, he looked at me. His dark eyes were filled with a sympathy that was just about my undoing. “Are you okay?”

I nodded and wrapped my hands around my coffee. It didn’t do a lot to ease the chill.

“It’s losing all the little things that hurts the most,” I whispered. “All the photos, the knickknacks that wouldn’t mean much to anyone else—”

My voice broke, and I stopped. No thinking, I told myself fiercely. No feeling. Shove everything back into its box and deal with it later.

“What I don’t get,” I added, once I had everything under some semblance of control again, “is why they’d want to burn down both apartments.”

Damon’s expression suggested he wasn’t exactly buying the act, but he didn’t say anything, instead grabbing several sugar packets and tearing off their tops before pouring them into his black coffee. “There could be a number of reasons.”

“Like what?”

“Like wanting to destroy any evidence you might have collected. Or ensuring you had nowhere to run.” He shrugged and picked up his mug. “Or maybe it’s simply a warning.”

“What, stay away or they’ll burn me to death?”

Even half-breeds like me were hard to destroy with flames alone. Fire was part of our soul, and it was in our nature to be able to control it—whatever the source. This wasn’t to say mistakes didn’t happen, or that we could control every single fire we came across—especially if they were as large as the one currently destroying my apartment—but such things were rare.

His gaze met mine, dark eyes somber. “I think you’ll find it’s more a ‘Stay away, or we’ll completely destroy everything in your life.’ ”

I steeled my mind against the thought that they already had, and tried to ignore the cold tremor that ran deep through my soul. “There isn’t a whole lot more in my life that these men can destroy.”

I hoped that by saying that, I hadn’t jinxed myself—or the people I cared about.

“At least you still have your life. As does your brother.” He hesitated. “Where is he? Perhaps you should warn him.”

“He’s away on business. But trust me, they wouldn’t want to tackle him anyway.” Unlike me, he wouldn’t be an easy target.

“These men have killed to keep their secrets, Mercy. Don’t doubt that they will kill you, or your brother, or anyone else who happens to get in their way.”

He wasn’t telling me anything I didn’t already know. I took a sip of coffee, but it didn’t do a whole lot to chase off the chill. “So why didn’t they kill you?”

He raised an eyebrow. “For the same reason they didn’t kill you. They wanted information.”

“The difference between us is the fact I don’t know anything.” And yet I’d recognized the voice talking to Angus on the phone, and if his comment about the steel room bringing back delicious memories was anything to go by, he’d obviously known me. So, was this more than what it seemed? Was a grudge behind the initial attack? Or was the chance to make good on a grudge just a bonus?

Maybe the information I needed was somewhere in the mists of my mind—I just had to remember it. Which was easier said than done when I’d spent the last ten years trying to forget. “You, on the other hand, know a whole lot of something.”

“If I knew as much as you seem to think, those men wouldn’t still be out there.”

Because he would have killed them. I shivered, then reached for a fork. Maybe some chocolate cake would help make the situation feel less dire.

“So what’s our next step?” I said around a mouthful of the deliciously gooey cake.

“Your next step is to be sensible and get the hell out of here.”

I didn’t answer immediately, concentrating on the chocolaty goodness instead. “You’re a smart man, so you can probably guess my response to that particular suggestion.”

He leaned back in his chair, his expression so cold the chill of it ran down my spine. Scary didn’t even begin to describe his countenance right now. “You really don’t have any common sense, do you?”

Anger swirled again—a firestorm that rippled across my skin, making the shadows in which we sat briefly flame to life.

His gaze flickered to my arms then swept past me, studying the half-empty restaurant.

“Careful,” he murmured. “We don’t need to be attracting attention right now.”

“I realize that,” I snapped, drawing the heat back in, letting it burn deep in my soul instead. “I’m not stupid, no matter what you might think.”

“I didn’t—”

“No, you just figure I’m a silly little reporter who has no idea what she’s really getting into.”

“And do you?”

“I’ve seen the towns and I’ve talked to Angus. I know.” My voice burned with a fury that wasn’t particularly aimed at him, but at fate itself. Just this once, I’d have liked to break through one of those damn walls between me and any useful information. Just once, I’d have liked to learn something rather than ending up empty-handed again. Damn it, I didn’t have the time to be running around in useless circles. “I’m not going to let you browbeat me into walking away, Damon. I can’t.”

He studied me for a moment, then said softly, “Because you need to save someone.”

I looked away, fighting the sting of tears. “Yes.”

“And is saving this person really worth the possible cost?”

I briefly closed my eyes. “Yes.”

“Then you must really love them.”

“I do.” I took a deep, somewhat shuddery breath and met his dark gaze. It was compassion and steel combined, and it was almost my undoing. “They killed her three days ago, Damon. I’m all she had, which means I’m the only one who can save her soul. And no matter what it takes, I will find and kill the bastards responsible for her death. No matter what you—or anyone else—says or does.”

The steel in his expression faded. He leaned forward and gathered my hands in his, his touch so warm, so comforting, that the tears spilled down my cheeks. God, it felt good to have someone to talk to. Someone who seemed to understand exactly what I was going through.

“How did she die?” he asked softly.

I closed my eyes against the rush of memories—the force of the impact that sent us flying, the crunch of metal, the high-pitched scream of the tires that was almost drowned out by our own, the bitter taste of fear as we realized there was nothing we could do to save ourselves. I’d relived those moments over and over in the hospital and would no doubt catch them in my dreams for years to come. While I doubted time would make them any easier to take, I hoped it would at least make the pain fade.

I took a deep breath, and said, “We were looking for clues in Nevada, but a phone call had us heading back to San Francisco. A truck ran us off the road before we got anywhere near here, and Rainey … went through the windshield.” I paused, swallowing heavily. “It was no accident.”

He shifted his grip so that his fingers were laced through mine. It was comforting and yet, at the same time, very intimate. The heat of his flesh chased the chill from mine and made me feel safer than I had ever thought possible.

“What makes you think it wasn’t an accident?”

“The truck accelerated as it came toward us. The driver never applied his brakes and, in fact, gunned the engine to hit us a second time. The police found the truck abandoned—and wiped of prints—two hours later.”

“Did you see the driver at all?”

I shook my head. “We were too busy trying to get out of his way.”

“Maybe the driver simply panicked—”

“No.” I raised my gaze to his. “They killed her, and they tried to kill me. I need to know why.” I needed answers if I was to have any hope of saving Rainey.

I breathed deep, trying to control the turmoil within me, trying to keep calm. It didn’t work. The tears continued to trickle down my cheeks regardless.

“The worst of it is, no one prayed for her, Damon. They ran us off the road and left us to die in the night and the cold, and I wasn’t aware enough to pray for her soul at sunrise.”

And that was the worst of it. I wasn’t there for her when she needed me the most.

“Her death was not your fault.”

“But if I don’t get my answers and claim my vengeance, then her soul will be forced to roam this earth forever. And that will be my fault.”

He didn’t say anything, just continued to hold my hands, and it offered more comfort than mere words ever could. Yet I could sense the conflict in him—the need for information warring with the need to be sympathetic. “Say it,” I said quietly.

He gave me a lopsided smile that warmed me more than his touch. “You must have found something to make them nervous.”

“We made a ton of notes, but I can’t remember anything that specifically points a finger at anyone.” I hesitated, then added, “But the man who gave us the tip … His voice was familiar.”

“You can’t place it?”

“No.” I hesitated again. “I have a friend doing a check on the whereabouts of a Seth Knightly, although the voice was too elegant to be his.”

“Then why do you suspect him?”

“Because he made a reference to something that happened to me in the past—something that only a few people were aware of. And running us off the road like that, and then leaving us to die, is the sort of thing he’d do.”

He frowned slightly. “And there was nothing in the town that you were investigating before the accident?”

“Nothing at all.” I hesitated. “Though I did wonder how they got my cell number.”

He frowned. “Cell phones are digital and hard to pick up on scanners, although that doesn’t mean it can’t have happened. But it’s more than likely someone would have given them your number.”

“I’ve only got a couple of friends who have my number, and none of them would have given it out without telling me.”

“What about your mother?”

“It’s possible, if the king ordered it.” But that man didn’t even know I existed, so I couldn’t imagine he was the source. “I’d like to think she didn’t, though.”

If only because that would mean they knew altogether too much about me.

Damon’s frown deepened. “Did you phone anyone unusual in the few days before the accident?”

“No.” I hesitated. “Well, I did phone the council about the cleansed towns, but they, of course, could not have cared less. I can’t imagine they’d attempt to destroy us when they didn’t even give a damn about two towns that had been destroyed.”

He didn’t comment on that, but I felt his quick flash of interest anyway. “You think someone on the council is working with the people behind the cleansings?”

I shrugged. “Right now, I think anything is possible.”

“It’s a shame those notes all burned along with your apartment. They might have been useful.”

“They’re not much more than a listing of what we’ve found, who we know is missing, stuff like that.”

“Which may not mean a lot to you, but could be the difference between me finding these people and not.”

“Meaning, of course, that you do know a whole lot more than you’re admitting.”

“I’m a muerte. I always know more than I admit.”

His tone was gently mocking, and I resisted the urge to flick some cake in his direction. But only because it would have meant taking my hands from his.

“If Death is all-knowing, then why doesn’t he know that the notes are actually on a netbook that wasn’t in either apartment?”

His dark gaze scanned mine, as if searching for lies. “So it’s safe?”

“More than likely.” If no one had stolen the thing out of the desk. “I’d been writing up the latest batch of notes at work and left them there.” Rainey had been in such a hurry to get back to Nevada that I’d forgotten to pick up the netbook on the way out.

“So we can still get to it?”

“If you can figure out a way to enter the building without being seen. Those men have my license and press card, so they’ll know where I work and will probably be on the lookout.”

His sudden smile was full and rich, and crinkled the corners of his eyes. And I’d been right before—it was absolutely heart-stopping.

“I’m a dragon and a muerte. Trust me when I say that I know a thing or two about sneaking into places unseen.”

It took a moment to ignore the glow of that smile and to think like the calm and rational person I supposedly was. To remember why I was here, doing this.

“I won’t help you retrieve the netbook unless you stop insisting that I walk away and let me help.”

His smile faded and I mourned its loss. “I understand why you need to do this, but that could be tantamount to condoning murder. Your murder, if these men get hold of you.”

“I’m going to keep investigating regardless of whether I have your help or not. And it seems to me that if we’re investigating the same thing, we’d be better off pooling resources.”

He pulled his hands from mine. “You’d be better off. I’d be landed with a complication I don’t really need.”

“Kindly remember the complication rescued your butt from hibernation and might yet have some information you need.” I picked up the coffee mug. It really didn’t provide the same sort of comfort as his touch, but it was better than nothing. I studied him for a moment longer, then added softly, “If you had the chance of saving a friend’s soul, wouldn’t you take it?”

“Yes.”

There was something in the way he said it that made me say, “I’m thinking your reason for tracking these people isn’t all that dissimilar to my own.”

His gaze met mine again. “You might be right.”

“Then don’t expect anything less from me.”

“I don’t expect anything of you—or from you—simply because I don’t know you.”

“That hasn’t stopped you from trying to boss me around.”

“I’m only trying to keep you safe, Mercy. I’d hate to see you end up like your friend and mine.”

It was on the tip of my tongue to ask why my death even mattered to him when we were strangers, but I resisted the temptation. Most people didn’t like to see lives thrown away needlessly, and though Damon was far from most people, it wasn’t fair to think he wouldn’t feel the same.

“I’d hate to see me end up like Rainey, too. But you’re investigating the same thing, so you’re just as much at risk as me.”

He smiled again, but this time it held a bittersweet edge that tore at something deep inside. He reached for the other fork and scooped up some chocolate cake, and I knew in that moment I’d won.

But I didn’t feel victorious. I just felt even more afraid. Because I knew, without a doubt, that this whole quest had just gotten a lot more dangerous. Because of this man, and because of the world he appeared to walk in.

“The difference between you and me,” he said, “is the fact that I’m as deadly as they are.”

“I can protect myself,” I said softly.

He didn’t say anything to that, but he didn’t have to. I could taste his disbelief in the air. “Tell me about this Angus you keep mentioning,” he said instead.

I shrugged again and picked up my fork, scooping up some more cake. It wasn’t doing a lot to ease the ache of losing all I’d held dear, but at least it stopped my stomach from rumbling. “We were going to meet him when the truck hit us. I contacted him again after I got out of the hospital and arranged another meeting. You saw the end result of that encounter.”

“How much did you tell him before you met him?”

“He knew we were investigating the cleansed towns.”

“If he was involved in the death of your friend, then meeting him alone was a pretty stupid move.”

According to him, my life was full of stupid moves. I squashed down my irritation and forked up more cake. If he didn’t hurry, he was going to miss out on his share—and given the barbed comments he kept flinging my way, maybe he deserved to.

“He’s a sea dragon. Rainey was killed in the middle of nowhere. My guess is that there was no direct involvement.”

“You can’t be sure of that.”

No, I couldn’t. But in this case, I trusted my instincts. Angus might be peripherally involved with whatever was happening, but I didn’t think it went as deep as murder—I’d overheard him say as much in the van. “I’m going to interview him tonight.”

“We should go get the netbook first. Just in case those men decide to do a little desk investigation of their own.”

“It won’t do them any good. I wasn’t using my desk.” I hesitated, but couldn’t help adding, “I’m not that stupid.”

Amusement twinkled in his eyes. “So there’s hope for you yet?”

“Apparently,” I muttered, unable to keep up with this man’s sudden mood changes. Although I couldn’t be annoyed by this one. Or that half smile. I glanced at my watch. “We’ve hours to spare.”

“But good disguises take time. Finish the cake, then I’ll show you some magic.”

I looked up into his dark eyes and saw the devilry there. I felt myself smiling. “Are you sure you’re capable of magic after being locked up for so long?”

“Why don’t you come back to my car and find out?”

Anytime, I thought, and I threw the fork down on the table. “Consider the cake finished.”

He rose and took my hand, pulling me gently upward. “Then let’s go.”

As I followed him out the door, I let my gaze wander up the length of him—admiring the way his jeans clung to his butt and emphasized the long, lean power of his legs. The silent, easy-flowing way he moved. The shoulders that hinted at the strength of the man, both within and without.

He reminded me of a predator, and I guess in many ways he was.

But however dangerous Death might be, however moody he might be, there was one inescapable fact.

He was also damn hot.

A wig, some artfully applied makeup, and a change of clothes later, and Damon did indeed look like someone else. He now looked and walked like a man twenty years older, and if I hadn’t seen the transformation myself, I wouldn’t have believed it. I certainly wouldn’t have looked twice at him on the street.

I watched him disappear into my office building, then glanced up and down the street. I couldn’t see anyone acting suspiciously, let alone anyone who seemed to be watching the entrance, but that didn’t mean anything. I hadn’t seen the watcher at the Ritz until it was almost too late.

Of course, Damon had insisted that I also undergo a change of appearance, which is why I was sitting at the bus stop with blond hair, a low-cut top that exposed way too much breast, and a miniskirt that bordered on indecent—all courtesy of a recent shopping spree. Damon’s theory was that if they were looking at my body they weren’t looking at my face, but the twinkle in his eyes as he’d said it suggested the bad guys might not be the only ones enjoying the look.

That was the sole reason I’d actually agreed to wear the outfit. Janelle might have warned me not to play with Death, but the inner dragon just wasn’t listening.

Not that I really expected anything to develop between us, because Damon seemed to be the ultimate loner. Besides, I knew from experience that dragons of his caliber didn’t consider half-breeds like me to be anything more than playthings.

I turned the page of the newspaper I’d been pretending to read and tried to ignore the rising chill in the air. I might have a dragon’s fire, but that didn’t mean I was immune to the cold. Especially when—like now—I couldn’t actually use my flame to warm myself.

Sharp music cut through the roar of passing traffic and it took me a moment to realize it was the cell phone Damon had given me.

Why Damon actually had spare cell phones sitting in his vehicle I couldn’t say—although it did seem to be packed with all sorts of useful items. Like spare clothes for himself, phones, the makeup that disguised us both, and a variety of guns and other weapons—although I’m not sure I was supposed to see the latter. Death might be a dragon, but he wasn’t beyond using human firepower.

I reached into the oversized red purse at my feet and grabbed the phone.

“Damon?” I said, without actually looking at the number.

“Wrong man,” Leith said. “And what the hell have you been getting involved in, woman?”

“Ah. You heard about the fires.” I didn’t bother asking Leith how he’d gotten the number. Janelle’s psychic abilities ran to the oddest bits of information sometimes. Like telling me that Angus wouldn’t be at his friend’s boat until tonight, but not telling me where he actually was this afternoon.

“Yeah, I heard about the fires,” Leith said, his voice dry. “Kinda hard to miss when it’s all over the news. You need help?”

“I’ve got help. Although don’t be surprised if I call you back in a day or so to take you up on your offer.”

“We’re always here.” He paused, and the sound of shuffling papers came down the line for several seconds before he added, “Haven’t been able to find out much more on that Angus fellow, but I’ve got some information on muertes.”

“And?”

“They’re trained assassins who work under the direction of the Council of Dragons.”

“To what aim, do you know?”

“According to my source, it’s the muertes’ role to enforce the council’s edicts and punish those who break the rules.”

Enforce being a more pleasant word for kill. “I wonder if that also includes rogue draman towns?”

“From what I understand, the muerte don’t leave evidence. If they had destroyed any of those towns, we wouldn’t even know about them.”

It didn’t mean the council hadn’t destroyed the towns, just that there was no evidence of it. And yet, if the council was behind the cleansings, why would Damon now be investigating them? Then I frowned, remembering the words of the oddly familiar-sounding stranger who’d talked to Angus in the van. He’d said something about Damon’s presence not being the result of direct council orders, meaning that this was either a private investigation or something else entirely was going on.

“Anything else?”

“Yeah, my source said don’t fuck with them. If the man you call Death is one of them, you might be wise to get the hell away while you can.”

“Leith, he’s investigating the cleansings just like I am. Right now, I need him. Or at least I need the information he’s holding.”

“And are you sure it’s worth the risk? We already know these bastards will do whatever it takes to get the job done, no matter what—or who—gets in the way. I’d hate to see you follow the same path as Rainey.”

I’d hate to see me going the way of Rainey, too, but it wasn’t like I could walk away. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I didn’t do everything I could to save her soul. And if that meant endangering my own life, then so be it. I owed her that, and more, for all the years she’d protected me from the worst of our clique’s ravages.

“But with the muerte by my side, there’s less chance of me ending up like that, isn’t there?”

“Being with him didn’t stop your apartment—or your brother’s—from being torched.”

“At least I wasn’t in them, Leith.”

“But you could have been.”

A point I couldn’t argue, so I simply said, “Did you uncover anything on Seth Knightly?”

“I’ve found several people who swear he died in a car accident, but there’s nothing official. I don’t suppose you know where the accident happened? It might make hunting the death certificate easier.”

“Sorry, I can’t help you there. I was too busy dancing in celebration to actually listen to details.” I glanced across the road, just to check whether Damon had reappeared yet, and found myself staring into the blue-eyed gaze of the stranger who’d chased me from the Ritz not three hours before.

My heart leaped to the vicinity of my throat, and it took every ounce of control to keep meeting his gaze, and to not react to his presence. To trust that the subtle changes Damon had made would make the difference between that man recognizing me and not.

“Leith, I have to go.”

There must have been a touch of panic in my voice, because he said, very quickly, “Problem?”

“I’ve just spotted someone I need to talk to.” The man was still staring, and sweat was beginning to trickle down my spine. So much for the chill in the air. “I’ll ring you back later.”

“Make sure you do, or we’re coming after you.”

I hung up then crossed my legs. The miniskirt rode up my thigh even farther and the guard’s gaze slipped downward. A smile touched his thin lips and, for one panicked moment, I thought he was going to cross the street to talk to me.

But he turned away and moved to the bus stop near the Fifth Street intersection, leaning against the outside wall of the shelter and taking a newspaper from his coat pocket. He’d positioned himself in such a way that he could see both the building entrance and me.

It might not mean he suspected my identity, but it sure as hell made things awkward. I dialed my phone’s twin and listened to it ring.

“Hello?” The urbane voice that answered was Damon’s and yet not. Like his looks, it could easily have belonged to someone older. In the background, I could hear Robyn talking and other phones ringing. Our office was never quiet, even on slow news days. With the recent spate of fires, today wouldn’t have been one of them.

“Our Ritz watcher has just turned up. He’s standing at the bus stop near the entrance, reading a paper.”

“Has he spotted you?”

“He saw me before he moved to the bus stop. He hasn’t made a move toward me, so he may not have recognized me.”

“Or he’s just waiting to see if I turn up or if you’ll lead him to me.”

“Could be.” He had more chance of understanding the motives of the bad guys than I did. He played in their world, after all. “So what do we do?”

“You need to move. If he follows, we know he’s recognized you.”

“And if he does follow, what will you do? Take him out?”

“It’s what I do, Mercy.”

A shiver went through me at the matter-of-fact way he said that. And he would do it—without thought, without remorse. But knowing someone was a killer and actually standing by and watching them do it were two entirely different things.

“It’s broad daylight and rush hour. You can’t risk that.” I wasn’t sure whether the slight edge in my voice was fear or anger, or even a touch of both. “And it makes you no better than them.”

He snorted softly. “I don’t attack innocents. That makes me a whole lot different.”

“It’s only a matter of degree. And I won’t be a party to it.”

“I didn’t ask you to join my investigation, remember?”

“No, I asked you to join mine. For the moment, I’m the one with all the information—information you apparently need.”

“Which I now have, thanks to your pretty friend.”

I smiled grimly. “The information is coded. Just try and read it without me.”

His voice was oddly weary as he said, “Letting the bad guys live almost never works out, Mercy.”

“I don’t care.”

“You will if they get hold of you later on.”

Maybe I would. No, I definitely would. But I’d regret standing by and watching Damon ruthlessly get rid of the guard even more. Killing might be an accepted part of dragon mentality, but murder was very different to killing in self-defense. It left a stain on the soul that was hard to erase. My brother had spent the last few years of his life living close to the edge in an effort to escape it. He might not have any remorse for his part in helping hunt down the men responsible for killing his half-brother’s soul mate, but the guilt of taking a life lay deep all the same—even if he refused to acknowledge it to himself or to others. I didn’t want that weight, didn’t want the regret. I had enough problems in my life as it was.

“Question him, restrain him, do what it takes to stop him from following us. But don’t kill him.” I hesitated, then added softly, “Please.”

He didn’t answer immediately, but when he finally did, his voice was flat and filled with steel. “This once, and against my better judgment. Walk down to Fifth Street and head right. When you come to Minna Street take another right and head through to Mary. Just keep walking. If he’s following you, you’ll spot him.”

I nodded, remembered he was on the phone, not in front of me, and said, “Then what?”

“Keep walking. I’ll go out the side entrance and take care of our problem a few streets away.”

I drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. It didn’t do a whole lot to calm the sudden rush of nerves. “Okay.”

“Give me five minutes to find the exit to Minna Street.”

“Will do.”

I hung up, popped the phone back into my bag, then continued to read the paper. Or at least, I tried to. But every nerve was tingling with the awareness of the man across the road. It was hard to curb the instinct to run, and yet that was the one thing I couldn’t do. When five minutes had passed, I made a show of glancing at my watch and making a face, then grabbed my bag and left, forcing myself to saunter down the street as if I didn’t have a care in the world. Or a madman on my tail. Unfortunately for me, this part of town was either populated by office buildings or parking lots, so I couldn’t pretend to stare into storefront windows and use the glass to check for pursuit. And yet he was following me. I could feel him. Could feel the heat of him, and smell his cindery scent.

I strolled down Fifth Street, matching my pace to the couple in front of me, not wanting to feel so alone. A lazy sea breeze swirled around us, and though I shivered I wasn’t entirely sure it was due to the chill in the wind. I needed to warm up, and that was the one thing I couldn’t do right now. Even if that guard didn’t recognize me, he was close enough to know I wasn’t human, and that just might be enough to have him paying a lot more attention to everything I did. Besides, a dragon’s flame was as individual as its scent.

I came to the Minna Street intersection and hesitated. The couple I’d been following continued down Fifth Street, leaving me feeling suddenly bereft. Ahead, Minna Street tunneled through my paper’s building, becoming dominated by shadows and artificial lighting, with a bright patch of sunshine beckoning on the other side. It was the perfect place for an ambush, but it certainly wasn’t where Damon was planning his.

I swallowed heavily, my nerves crawling and sweat tracking down my back. I glanced back at the traffic, using the moment to see not only what the traffic was doing, but where my follower was.

The road was clear and the guard had paused near the parking garage’s exit. I crossed the road quickly. The minute I was out of my follower’s line of sight, I broke into a run, bolting for that patch of sunshine and the false sense of security it offered.

When the sun hit my face, I slowed, my breathing ragged more from fear than the short run. I was so tempted to look behind me, but that would warn him that I was on to to him. Although, if he’d witnessed my mad dash through the tunnel, he’d probably have guessed anyway.

I passed two doorways and walked under the fire escape. I had no sense of Damon, but he’d had more than enough time to find these exits. For a moment I wondered if he’d simply taken the netbook and left, but something inside me said no. He wanted to stop the people wiping out the draman towns as much as I did, and I was currently his quickest way of doing that.

I flexed my fingers and tried to relax as I came to another cross street. I paused, looking right and left, not really wanting to continue down this lonely-looking street. Not until I knew for sure whether my pursuer was following. I bit my lip then crossed to the sidewalk on the other side of Minna Street. In the process, I casually glanced sideways. The street was empty. The guard hadn’t followed me.

Relief washed over me, leaving me shaking. I took a deep breath and released it slowly, then continued down Minna Street as I’d been instructed.

I wasn’t alone for long. A familiar warmth crept over my skin, chasing the chill from my flesh as quickly as an inner fire. I smiled slightly as Damon fell into step beside me, and felt any remaining tension slide away. He might be just as dangerous as the men who were hunting us, but he made me feel a whole lot safer.

“He’s not following,” he said, stating the obvious as he glanced sideways at me. “I’ll accept your apology for saying the disguise wouldn’t work.”

I smiled. “I don’t think it’s fair to penalize me for not remembering men can be sidetracked by a small pair of breasts and a whole lot of leg.”

“An apology is not a penalty. And the breasts may be small, but the legs are magnificent.”

The compliment had heat flushing my cheeks. God, anyone would think I was a giddy virgin—and that hadn’t been the case for more years than I cared to remember. “Well, I’m glad I have one good feature.”

His gaze met mine, the dark depths serious despite his faint smile. “You have lots of good features. Unfortunately, your stubborn refusal to see good sense isn’t one of them.”

My smile faded. So much for the compliment. “You were going to murder him, Damon. I can’t be a part of that.”

“And do you think they’ll show any such restraint if they catch you again?”

Fear rose like a ghost—half-formed, insubstantial, but mind-numbing nonetheless. “I realize that.” My voice was sharp with the panic threatening to bubble over. “But if I somehow manage to survive all this, I then have to live with my actions. And I won’t take someone’s life just because it’s expedient. Life of any kind deserves more respect than that.”

At least until I knew for sure who was responsible for Rainey’s death. Then I wouldn’t restrain him.

And I wouldn’t restrain myself.

Deep down, though, I wondered if I was really ready to claim the revenge Rainey needed.

“Expedience is taking care of problems before they take care of you,” he snapped, then raked a hand through his hair. “This is a mistake, trust me on that.”

“So you’ve said.” Repeatedly. “And if I pay the price, then so be it. You’ve got the netbook?”

“Yes.” He pulled the little computer out from under his coat and handed it to me. “What sort of code is it?”

I shrugged as I shoved it into my bag. “Just one we made up when we were kids. It was safer sending notes no one else could read—there was less likelihood of offending someone and getting punished.”

He gave me a look that bordered on disbelief. “Why on earth would someone want to punish a couple of kids for sending each other notes?”

“Because it was outside guidelines.” I hesitated, then reluctantly added, “Draman never got the same sort of consideration as full-blooded dragons.”

“Ah,” he said, in a voice that suddenly seemed cooler. “I understand.”

His reaction had disappointment swirling, but with it came a lifetime of annoyance.

“How can you possibly understand? You’re a full-blood, and a dragon of rank and privilege besides. You could never, ever understand just how it is for those of us who sit in two worlds, but are never really considered a true part of either. You use us, abuse us—but heaven forbid you ever think us worthy of any sort of consideration.”

He looked a little startled, and I wasn’t sure whether it was my words or the anger so evident in my voice. “I have to admit, I’ve never really thought much about the draman’s lot in life,” he said.

I snorted softly. “Few full-bloods do.”

He slanted me a sideways glance. “We don’t have draman in our clique. We never have had.”

“Meaning your clique refuses to sully dragon blood with the human taint?” God, how often had I heard such a phrase from the bastard who ruled our clique? Which was ironic when he was one of the biggest transgressors. Half his get—my brother included—were draman.

“Meaning my clique is mostly where the muerte come from,” he said softly. “It’s hard to create potential problems yourself when you are constantly cleaning them up.”

“Meaning draman are the first and only source of dragon problems?” I snorted again. “You have to be kidding me.”

Hell, I knew from experience just how far off the mark that statement was.

“You’re right; they’re not the sole source of our problems.” He slanted me another glance, his expression grim. “But trust me when I say that you lot are a major problem when it comes to keeping the existence of dragons secret.”

“And of course the full-bloods are perfect little angels, and would never do anything to jeopardize the security of the cliques.” I shook my head in disbelief. “I expected better of you, Damon.”

He quirked an eyebrow at that and, just for a moment, humor warmed his dark eyes. “As I’ve mentioned before, you barely know me. And yet here you stand berating my ideals and beliefs.”

“And yet you’ve called me stupid multiple times, and would deny me existence if you could.”

“I didn’t mean to imply—”

“I saw your reaction when I mentioned I was draman. Hell, I felt it. So don’t try to bullshit me about what you did and didn’t mean.”

“I won’t deny I reacted to the fact you were draman, Mercy, but it’s not for the reasons you seem to think.”

“So explain it to me, seeing I so stupidly got it wrong.”

I stopped at another street and crossed my arms, waiting for the flow of traffic to ease so that we could cross. The sea breeze was getting stronger, and the heat of Damon’s presence was no longer enough to keep me warm. I reached down inside myself and called forth the fire, feeling it ripple through my muscles, warming me from the inside out. It wasn’t enough to make my skin glow with heat, but at least it kept the bite of the wind at bay. And that bite would get worse the closer we got to the sea.

“I’ve never seen a dragon with your fire control, let alone a draman.” He began shrugging off his coat. “It’s unusual for draman to even get dragon skills, let alone have them so refined.”

I frowned, more than a little confused by his statement. While it was true that there were few enough draman who had my control of fire, there were plenty of us who had most or all of the dragon skills. “Why would you think it’s unusual?”

“Because it is.” His tone edged toward mocking, and annoyance rose again.

“No, it’s not. Just about every draman born at Jamieson has full dragon skills.” I shivered again and stoked the fires a little bit higher, trying to chase away the growing chill.

“Interesting,” he said softly, then offered me the coat. “Here, take this and cool the furnace. If this Angus is a sea dragon, he’ll sense your fire and run long before we get to him.”

“Thanks.” I handed him my red bag and slipped my arms into the coat sleeves. It was quite a bit longer on me than on him, swallowing my hands and dropping past my knees. But it was thick and warm, and filled with the raw scent of him. I flared my nostrils, drawing in the aroma, letting it slide across my senses.

Then I took back my bag, and said, “When you say ‘interesting,’ does that mean you didn’t know about it?”

“The council knew it was happening. I don’t believe they’re aware it’s occurring in such numbers.”

I frowned. “But I was under the impression it was happening in all the cliques.”

“No, it’s not. It seems to be just the seaside cliques.”

“But why? And how did the council find out about it? I doubt our king would offer such information.” He wasn’t the caring-and-sharing type—especially when breeding too many draman was forbidden by council law.

“He didn’t. But thirty-one years ago, there was an unapproved cleansing of a small seaside town. Your king denied any knowledge, but the council heard whispers that the town had been filled with his draman—many of whom had the skills of full dragons. They have been watching the seaside cliques ever since.”

A chill ran through me. Whale Point. It had to be. “So why would our king tell us that draman in all cliques were gaining dragon powers when he knows it’s not true?”

“I don’t know.” He hesitated, looking down at me, his expression no warmer than before, but maybe that was merely the face of a muerte rather than the man I was occasionally getting glimpses of. “But the Jamieson clique has always been something of a headache for the council.”

“Why?”

His expression didn’t alter, but I felt his contempt. It wrapped around me, as dark and as deep as the man. “Your king believes the cliques should be autonomous.”

I frowned. “But they basically are, aren’t they? I thought the council only ruled over decisions that affected all the cliques as a whole.”

“Yes and no. Securing our position in this human world is the council’s number-one priority, and everything the cliques do affects this.”

“So how often are the kings supposed to report to the council?”

“Daily, but the Jamieson clique is somewhat remiss. Your king hasn’t done enough to warrant a reprimand, but he skirts the edge.”

“But that doesn’t explain why the council wouldn’t know the full truth about us draman.”

His smile was cold—though its harshness was not aimed at me. “Your king wouldn’t tell the council about the draman gaining full dragon powers simply because it is against council edicts to produce too many draman.”

“But if the council was watching the clique, they surely would have been aware of our numbers. Why not make a ruling that draman were not to be produced until numbers fell?” After all, in the air-dragon world, it was the male dragons who decided whether a female got pregnant or not. If they didn’t want all of us little half-breeds hanging about, then it was simply a matter of choosing not to be fertile with their human lovers.

When I actually thought about it, this suggested our king was breeding draman deliberately. But why, when he supposedly hated us?

“As I said, I doubt the council is aware of the true extent of draman numbers, although they know that the number of full dragons being born in the seaside cliques is falling. Maybe there’s a correlation.” He hesitated, then added, “But draman are answerable to the kings and council. Humans are not. Maybe they deemed it safer to allow higher draman numbers than human.”

If he thought humans weren’t answerable to the kings, then he hadn’t been to our clique. There wasn’t one human living there who would look sideways at our king without fearing some sort of reprisal, although most of them—my mother included—had been with the clique so long they saw nothing wrong with this. We stopped at a set of lights and I punched the button with more force than necessary. “So what is the council considering doing about the draman in the seaside cliques?”

He hesitated. “It’s an abnormality that should be explored—”

“And destroyed? Isn’t that the council’s usual modus operandi when it comes to anything threatening dragon culture?”

“Draman are a part of that culture—”

“We’ve never been a part of the culture,” I spat back. “And it’s people like you who have enforced it.”

The walk light flashed. I strode out ahead of him, suddenly not wanting to be near him. My fury was just too great—and while it wasn’t particularly aimed at him, he was a part of the mentality that had made growing up such hell for me.

The roar of an engine broke through the anger. It was loud and close. Too close. My heart skipped a beat and my breathing was momentarily frozen as I looked up. I saw the white car and the man inside. A man with blue eyes and an almost dreamy smile touching his thin lips.

And I knew, without a doubt, that he had recognized me—despite the skirt and the wig.

We hadn’t lost him. We’d just given him time to find a weapon.

And he was driving it right at me.