Within the Flames (20 page)

No person had ever
done
this to him. He wasn’t ev {e w/div>
this
was . . . except that it wasn’t
just
infatuation. It wasn’t just his lonely self, reaching out to the first woman who could meet and withstand his fire.

Fire was nothing but a chemical reaction releasing heat and light. Fire could be struck with a match, or lightning. Fire was
common.

This . . . what he felt when close to Lyssa . . . was something else entirely. Losing her would mean losing his life. As ridiculous as that should have been, it was truer than anything in his life.

How was he going to protect her? Was there
any
way to keep her safe that wouldn’t end in killing?

She made a small hissing sound and touched her nose. Blood dotted her fingertips.

“Are you sick?” he asked, alarmed.

“Side effect,” she muttered. “Don’t worry. I haven’t done any magic in almost ten years. It puts stress on the body.”

Anger made his voice sharp. “Anything else you want to tell me?”

The cab driver swerved to the right and braked hard, nearly sending them into the divider. But Eddie never took his gaze off Lyssa, who—for one moment—gave him a haunted look that chilled him to the bone.

“We’re here,” announced the cab driver. “Close, anyway.”

Close enough to see Lannes, less than half a block away. Even though it was dark, his size made him stand out. The gargoyle, clad in his illusion, waited on the Central Park side of Fifth Avenue, leaning against one of the old, slightly bent trees growing from the sidewalk. Dead leaves littered the ground, and the park woodlands stretched behind him on the other side of the wall. It was all very idyllic—except for the worry on Lannes’s face as he spoke into his cell phone.

Eddie and Lyssa slid out of the cab. The gargoyle strode toward them, and they met beneath another tree—a tangle of hearts and initials carved into the bark.

“They’re here,” Lannes said into the phone, his massive frame strained and rigid. “No, I’m coming for you. It doesn’t matter anymore, baby. Just . . . hold tight.”

He did not hang up but tilted the receiver from his mouth and gave them both a sharp look—especially Lyssa. “There are eight people up there, ranging in ages from twenty to seventy. { toem"All family. All upset.”

“Not because of Lethe?” Eddie asked.

“No. I
think
it has to do with the
Cruor Venator.
” He gave Lyssa a significant look, and she raised her brow.

“In a perfect world,” she told him, “you wouldn’t even know I exist. Don’t think I wanted this.”

Lannes grunted. Eddie stepped closer to her. “Lethe can’t tell them she needs some fresh air?”

“She tried that. They’re being especially protective.” Lannes pressed the phone to his mouth again. “Okay. I love you.”

They waited for traffic to pass and crossed the road to an elegant building constructed from pale stone. On the other side, though, Lyssa held back and flagged down a cab.

Eddie watched her pass him a twenty.

“I’ll give you another forty, plus fare, if you wait here,” she told him. “We shouldn’t be more than ten minutes, and we’ll want to leave fast.”

“Gonna rob a bank?” teased the man.

“Family reunion.”

“Holy shit,” he said. “I’ll buckle up.”

Eddie gave her an amused look. Lyssa shrugged, rubbing her eyes. “What? You think I want to be stuck here?”

Lannes grunted. “Come on.”

The doorman eyed their faces but didn’t give them any trouble going in. Lethe’s family lived on the top floor. The elevator ride was short, and claustrophobic. Lannes took up most of the space and kept fidgeting.

All while staring at Lyssa. Not with a pleasant look on his face, either.

“There’s something different about you,” he said, just as the elevator reached the tenth floor. “You’ve done magic, haven’t you?”

Lyssa tensed. “Does that bother you?”

He frowned. “Let’s get my wife, then I’ll let it bother me.”

There was only one door on the tenth floor. Eddie heard shouts on the other side.

“What a crappy day for visiting people,” Lyssa muttered.

Lannes dragged in a deep breath, and banged his fist on the door so hard, the entire frame shook. Silence fell on the other side.

And then, very distantly, they heard a woman shout, “LET ME GO!”

Lannes’s entire frame shuddered.

Eddie reacted instinctively, grabbing Lyssa and pulling her out of the way—just as the gargoyle stepped back, his massive hands flexing with loud cracks of bone.

The look in his eyes was pure death, and, with an ear-deafening roar, he slammed his foot into the door—and kicked it in.

Wood splintered everywhere. Eddie heard shouts and gasps of surprise, and followed Lannes into the apartment—fire already burning in his hands. He checked for Lyssa and found her behind him, her eyes glowing, mouth set in a hard line. Fresh blood dotted her nostrils and upper lip.

Five men and women were ranged around the room, all tall, fair-haired, with chiseled cheekbones and slender bodies. None wore bright colors, which reflected the apartment—decorated in white, black, and gray. Books lined tall shelves, and a grand piano sat in the corner. Suitcases lined the wall.

All those people looked stunned, and not at all dangerous. Three more women came running from the hall, of such similar appearance they could have only been sisters. Lethe was behind them, slender and blond, and very pale.

She was the only one dressed in color: a sea-blue silken blouse, with dark jeans and emerald green ballet flats. Golden earrings dangled. Her face was flushed, furious. Eddie had only met her once before, the previous year, during a rooftop barbecue in San Francisco. Sometimes shy, but with a wicked sense of humor, and deep, deep love for the gargoyle who rarely left her side.

When she saw Lannes, a tremendous smile broke out on her face.

“Oh, my God,” said an old man, staring at the gargoyle with disgust. “What is that
thing
?”

Lethe burst out laughing, but it was sharp and hard, and brittle. Some of her {. Sth="1em" a family flinched, but not one took their gaze off Lannes—or him and Lyssa.

“Uncle Douglas,” said Lethe, pushing around the women surrounding her, “that
thing
is my husband.”

Finally, the entire room
did
look at her.

“Oh, my
God,
” said the old man, again.

“I apologize for breaking your door,” rumbled Lannes, with an incongruous politeness that Eddie, under other circumstances, would have found amusing. “I’ll pay for the damages, but my
wife
is coming with me now.”

No one said a word.

Lethe, who had been running toward Lannes, stopped moving—so suddenly, it was as though her feet were caught in quicksand. Eddie didn’t understand at first why she seemed to hang forward, as if on puppet strings.

It wasn’t until outrage flickered over her face that he realized it wasn’t her choice. Lannes growled, and strode toward her—or tried to. He took one step, and the same thing happened.

His illusion disappeared, as well.

Stripped into nothing but air, revealing his silver skin and massive bound wings. His eyes glowed red, and the tips of his fingers were sharp. His entire body was rigid and straining.

The men and women in the room leaned forward and stared at Lannes as though he were some circus freak.

Eddie scanned their faces. The old man was rubbing his jaw, clutching a cane between his knees, and the middle-aged woman seated on the bench beside him held a glass of red wine in a white-knuckled grip. The three sisters pressed closed together, noses wrinkled as though they smelled something bad and wanted to say, “Ew.”

An elderly woman stood behind Lethe. She was dressed in a loose black dress, and gold bangles jangled on her birdlike wrists. Elegant, graceful, with silver hair tucked up in a small bun. She placed a gentle hand on Lethe’s shoulder.

But that was all. If there was a fight, and magic was involved . . .

An odd chill raced over Eddie, as though he stood in an ice-cold river, waters rising over his head. A rippling, lapping sensation.

Energy,
came the unbidden thought.
This
is
magic.

Lannes’s muscles strained, and he edged forward another step—though it seemed to cost him a great deal of strength. “You don’t want to do this.”

One of the woman, tall and dressed in black, folded her arms over her chest. She was extremely thin, more so than could be healthy. Eddie hadn’t seen anyone that close to starvation since looking at pictures of concentration-camp victims in World War II.

Her collarbone protruded at painful angles—so did her cheekbones. If her body was cadaverous, however, her eyes were a brilliant shade of green and the most alive and vibrant part of her. Loose blond hair flowed down her back, so perfectly styled she might have just come from a hairdresser.

She gave Lannes a piercing look. “It has been fifty years since I saw one of your kind. I heard rumors that you still existed, but frankly, I thought the world had become too small for gargoyles.”

“Not yet,” he muttered, but there was a note of strain in his voice that made Eddie recall his stories of imprisonment: locked in his body for years, unable to move. “Let my wife go.”

“Wife,” said the woman heavily. “You cannot possibly be married to my daughter.”

Lethe made a furious sound. “Mother.”

“Shut up,” she snapped—and the young woman’s jaw shut. Muscles worked in her throat, and she made a choked, snarling sound that was short and furious. But her mouth . . . her mouth would not open . . . and it was clear that she was trying.

Her mother swayed, staring at her. “How could you be so
stupid
? Don’t you know this is impossible? Even . . . thinking about it . . . God. It’s an
anathema.
”

The old woman standing beside Lethe stepped forward with a disapproving frown.

“Take care with your temper
and
insults, Morgana,” she said in crisp, quiet tones—and then, much to Eddie’s surprise, she stared directly at Lyssa. “Your power in this room is infinitely small right now.”

“Don’t lecture me, Ursula.” The woman’s pale features smoothed into a cold, hard mask—and she focused that heavy, glinting gaze on Lethe. “I understand now why you wouldn’t give me a name, why you refused to say a word.
And
why y {>

Lethe gave her a hateful look. A trickle of understanding filled Eddie, but it was so unexpected, so entirely impossible, he wasn’t sure he could be right.

“Yes,” she said, growling the word.

The old man muttered to himself. The sisters exchanged disgusted glances. The elderly woman, Ursula, only sighed—and watched Lyssa with puzzlement and sadness. Eddie’s gaze slid to Lyssa, but she was studying Lethe and didn’t seem to notice the others’ scrutiny.

“God,” said Morgana, closing her eyes with visible revulsion. “How could you? I thought, at least, your baby was
human . . .
but this?”

Eddie’s gut clenched. Lannes sucked in his breath with shock and stared at Lethe. His wife’s eyes were filled with determination—the answer
there
as she stared back at him.

She was pregnant.

“Lethe,” whispered Lannes, and the reverence in his voice should have melted even a stone heart. But Morgana’s mouth twisted with disdain, and a shudder raced through her that was pure revulsion.

“Her name,” she said in a clear, granite tones, “is
Alice.
And she will never bear your child. Not now. Not ever. I will rip it from her myself if I have to.”

Lannes said nothing; he might as well have screamed, given the crackle of raw, pure energy that suddenly coursed through that room. He lurched forward one step, and the three sisters winced and touched their heads. He took another step, muscles straining, gaze burning with disgust and resolve.

And then Morgana made a slashing motion with her hand, and he stopped, again.

Lyssa cursed to herself, but Eddie stayed quiet, burying his heart so deep he could barely feel it. Lethe was quiet, too, but it was a deadly, simmering silence that was murderous, and cold.

Morgana said, “If you leave now, gargoyle . . . I will not hurt you.”

“Keep him,” muttered the old man, tapping his cane on the floor. “In case the
Cruor Venator
finds us. Perhaps we can trade his life, or use him as a distraction. It might make all the difference.”

“You don’t bargain with the
Cruor Venator,
” murmured Lyssa, but no one seemed to hear her but Eddie.

Ursula stepped forward, golden bangles chiming. “You can’t be serious, Morgana. This is absurd.”