Mercy Burns

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