Mercy Burns

by Keri Arthur

  “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.”

  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 tal
ked 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 mo
urned 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.