Mercy Burns

His dark eyes glinted dangerously. “Trust me; I’m trained to know these things. There’s no one else nearby, and the guard beyond that bush is currently fighting hibernation.”

He held out his hand. I hesitated, then placed my fingers in his, noticing that not only was his skin far warmer, but the underlying tremor that had been evident the last time he’d stolen heat was absent.

It made me wonder just how much he’d stolen and whether hibernation was the worst of the guard’s problems right now—made me wonder just what the man called Death was really capable of.

But if these men had been involved in Rainey’s death, they certainly deserved whatever Damon had dished out to them. And even if they hadn’t, I very much doubted whether compassion or kindness was what they’d planned for me tomorrow. The welts on Damon’s body were evidence enough of that.

We walked on through the garden until an archway covered by some sort of vine loomed. Damon led me though the green gateway then turned left, following the footpath with long, sure strides. Trees lined either side of the street, their leafy tops lost to the ever-moving fog. The houses were little more than large, somewhat vague, outlines, but even so, I recognized where we were. I’d done a write-up on one of the homes in this area last year.

“We’re in the St. Francis Wood area, near Terrace Park,” I said softly. I’d been right—Angus hadn’t driven very far at all. We hadn’t even left San Francisco.

“Have you got somewhere safe to go?” Damon asked. “You can’t go home. That’s the first place they’ll look.”

Fear twisted through me. I hadn’t gotten as far as thinking what I would do now that I was free. Hadn’t gotten as far as thinking what they might do.

“Do you really think they’ll come after me?” Even as I asked the question, I knew the answer. I had firsthand experience of how far they were willing to go. But I was hoping he’d deny the truth, give me false hope, if only for a moment or two.

I should have known a trained assassin would never do something like that.

“They kidnapped you for a reason. I doubt they’re going to just give up.”

My gaze flicked around, searching the foggy shadows for assailants I knew weren’t there. Not yet, anyway.

“But I don’t know anything.” That probably wasn’t the point. They knew I was trying to track down the culprits behind the cleansings—and given the lengths to which they’d already gone to keep their secrets, that would surely be more than enough reason for them to do whatever it took to stop me.

Although again, it begged the question, why kidnap me rather than just kill me?

What was so different now than two days ago, when they’d tried to kill both Rainey and me?

“Understanding the motives of evil men is often a difficult thing,” Damon said, philosophically.

I looked up at him. His prominent nose gave his face a sharpness that should have been less than appealing. Instead, his features suggested strength and courage—much like the character of the man himself, I suspected. “We could go to the police. Tell them that those men kidnapped us.”

It might work—might being the operative word. And really, could I afford to waste the time? Even if the cops caught our kidnappers, that still left at large the man in charge and the man who’d driven the truck, and it was them I needed caught.

No, not just caught. Dead.

A shiver ran through me. I rubbed my arms, raising static and causing sparks to fly from my fingertips. They spun across the darkness—bright chips of fire that were all too quickly snuffed out.

Much like Rainey.

“You could try,” he said, “but I very much doubt our captors would still be at the house by the time the cops got there.”

“I could give them the name of the man who drugged me.”

“His word against yours. And I bet he’ll have a watertight alibi.”

That was almost funny, given we were talking about a sea dragon. “So we’re just going to do nothing?”

“What you’ll be doing is keeping out of their way.” His voice held the whip of command. “I’ll sort out the problem of our kidnappers.”

Anger rose and I clenched my free hand against it. I should have been used to dragon men bossing the rest of us around, yet it still irritated the hell out of me. But then, I guess it was something of a family trait to defy authority. My brother didn’t exactly take to being told what to do, either.

“Considering how well you were doing on your escape plan before I got there,” I said, voice dry and holding little to hint at the annoyance, “that might not be such a good idea.”

“If you have so little faith in me, then why are you still here?”

His tone was amused, though there was little to be seen in his expression, which was as forbidding as ever.

“We’re not out of the woods yet,” I said. “You might still come in handy.”

Besides, I did trust him. To an extent, anyway. That was odd, considering I very rarely trusted anyone—and especially not strangers. But there was something about this man—something about his calm, dark strength that sparked a hint of faith.

“Despite the heat I stole, I may not be up to the task if we get hit again.” He slanted me a glance that said our kidnappers had better not be on our trail—not if they valued their lives. “And you didn’t answer my question.”

I must have looked confused, because he added, “About somewhere safe to go.”

“Oh. I can go to my brother’s.” He probably wouldn’t be there, but I knew the security code and could get past the additional deadlock easily enough.

Damon didn’t look happy with my answer. “That might not be the wisest move. It’s not hard to look in the phone book for his address.”

“He’s my half-brother. And he’s not listed.”

“Then that’s a little better.” He contemplated the fog ahead for a moment, and though there seemed to be little to threaten us, his tension was a living thing, filling the soupy darkness with a dangerous energy.

But I really hoped no one else came after us. I’d had enough excitement for one day.

“Where does your brother live?” he added, his gaze coming back to me.

“Parkside. Twenty-ninth Avenue, near Taraval.”

“Then we can get you home easily?”

“We can,” I said. “But don’t feel obliged to escort me. I can look after myself.”

“Consider it payback for getting me out of that place,” he said, a smile playing around the corners of his lips.

My pulse did a happy little dance at the sight and I dragged my gaze away. It had to be a leftover effect of the drugs, combined with the fact that I hadn’t eaten much. Nothing else.

I didn’t want it to be anything else.

We headed toward the shell-like construction that was West Portal Station and waited for the next train. It wasn’t empty; they never were. We sat in silence and were left alone—not surprising, given that his stolen coat couldn’t quite cover the bruised and bloody state of his body.

But even on the train, where there was little threat to either of us, his tense alertness never dissipated. By the time we reached my brother’s building, I was beginning to jump at shadows myself.

Damon stopped at the bottom of the steps and looked up at the mustard-colored building. “No one appears to be home.”

“No. But I’ll be all right.”

“Are you sure?” His gaze met mine, and though there was nothing to see but distant coldness in those dark depths, there was an edge of concern in his voice. Or maybe it was my imagination, and sudden unwillingness to be left alone.

Which was stupid. Those men couldn’t possibly track me down so quickly. They might have my driver’s license and press card, but I didn’t even keep a photo of my brother in my wallet, so how would they know about him, let alone suspect I’d come here?