Mercy Burns

“First the bar, and now your place. It would seem one of our kidnappers is something of an arsonist.”

“So you think it was one of the guards who set the bar on fire?” My gaze was dragged from the blaze as a police officer directed us down a side street. In some ways it was a relief. If I couldn’t see the flames, maybe I wouldn’t think about the destruction they’d wreaked on my life. Not until I lay down to sleep, anyway.

“The bartender was one of the men who questioned me when they had me locked up. I recognized his voice.”

“Well, that explains how I got snatched.” And proved my instincts had been right. Shame I hadn’t listened to them and got the hell out of there while I still could. “I was in that bar meeting Angus when I was drugged. He was the one who took me to that house.”

“Angus?”

“A sea dragon.” I hesitated. “I got a feeling he’s working for them unwillingly.”

“You do make the oddest judgments about people you’ve barely met, don’t you?”

“You learn to judge very quickly when it means avoiding another scar.”

He frowned. “That’s the second time you’ve said that. Why on earth would anyone want to scar you?”

“Because of what I am.” Because they could. “So you did go back to the bar last night?”

Damon’s sudden smile was something I felt rather than saw, but it was a cold thing that sent goose bumps across my skin.

“Yes.”

“How? I mean, you might have stolen heat, but you weren’t exactly a powerhouse of energy when you left me.”

“Perhaps not, but like the other two guards, the bartender kindly decided to loan me his heat.”

“And did he survive the encounter?”

“He was weak, but alive—and the bar intact—when I left.” Damon shrugged, a movement that was surprisingly eloquent. “I was hoping he’d lead me back to his master’s lair sometime over the next few days.”

“So you merely put the fear of God into him while firing up the furnaces?”

“More like the fear of death.” He met my gaze in the mirror again, a slight frown creasing his brow. “The only one who doesn’t seem to be afraid of me is you.”

“That’s because I have no sense.”

A smile twitched his lips again. I pulled my gaze away and tried to think sensible thoughts rather than what I’d really like to do to those lips. “The cops must have found you pretty quickly—which means those men could have, too.”

“I’m a little smarter than that.” The look he cast my way reminded me that I hadn’t been. “When I heard on the news that the cops were looking for a man fitting my description, I turned myself in. We talked, then they let me go.” He paused, and swung the car around another corner. “You don’t give up until you get your answers, do you?”

“It’s the reporter in me.”

“Or your naturally stubborn nature.”

“That, too.”

He swung onto another street. “With the bar torched, and the bartender dead, I had intended to keep an eye on my hotel and follow any watchers to their source. That plan got a little sidetracked.”

“Yeah, sorry about that.” Though I wasn’t. Not entirely. At least I’d gotten to talk to him again, even if he hadn’t provided any real information.

He turned right again, and my brother’s apartment came into sight.

Only it was on fire as well.

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.”