Within the Flames (24 page)

Chapter Fourteen

D
irk & Steele owned the entire building—five stories filled with a handful of individual apartments that remained locked and unused, except for times like these, when people needed a place to go.

Eddie found Lannes on the second floor, inside the first apartment on the left. Hardly any furniture: two chairs and a battered folding table, and a small dingy lamp on the floor in the corner. Illusion-clad, he stood in the middle of the apartment with his arms folded over his massive chest. Unhappiness and unease were written all over his face, and his frown only deepened when he saw Lyssa.

“We shouldn’t have left you,” Lannes said, when they walked in. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

“You did the right thing,” Eddie told him. “Don’t doubt it for a minute.”

“The woman . . .” He looked down, staring at his big hands. “Is she really dead?”

“She was only the servant of a
Cruor Venator,
” Lyssa said, quietly. “So yes, she’s dead.”

“Just a servant?” Lannes gave her a haunted look. “The way she made me feel . . . the fear . .&e w< />

“Close enough. If you hadn’t killed her, she would have reported your existence to the witch. The
Cruor Venator
would have certainly hunted you and your family.”

Eddie thought of the gleam in Betty’s eye and the blood that had dripped from her knife. Estefan had been skinned alive, drained, partially eaten . . . what would they do to a gargoyle, who would be even harder to kill?

He swallowed hard. “Lethe’s people will . . . get rid of the body. We didn’t ask how.”

“I don’t want to know.” Lannes raked his hands through his illusory hair though his hands hitched upward—as though hitting his horns. “What a day.”

No kidding.
Eddie fought to keep his feelings in check: more anger and fear, and something deeper, more disturbing. “You both have to leave the city.”

“Obviously.” For a moment, pain eased in the gargoyle’s face . . . and his mouth twitched into a smile that was wild and tremulous. “I’m going to be a father.”

Warmth spread through Eddie’s chest, accompanied by an odd longing that made him glance at Lyssa. She was looking at him, too, though her gaze flew instantly away. Her cheeks reddened.

He cleared his throat. “Congratulations.”

“It’s impossible,” whispered the gargoyle, as if he didn’t hear him. “I’m terrified. What if her mother was right? I’m not human. The baby could be . . . deformed, or sick . . .”

“Lannes,” he said quietly. “It’s a miracle. Don’t overthink it.”

“I know.” He flexed his fingers and looked at Lyssa. “You and I need to talk.”

She gave him wary look. “Okay.”

Lannes fidgeted. “I’ll never be able to thank you enough for what you did today. You saved my wife and me. You saved my child.”

She was silent a moment. “But?”

But nothing,
thought Eddie, disturbed at the regret that filled Lannes’s eyes . . . as though bad news was coming .&nbss c000000">

Lannes gave him a slight frown but focused in on Lyssa . . . and in a voice so low, so quiet it was difficult to hear him, he said, “I know what you are now. So forgive me . . . but I don’t feel comfortable with your presence. I respectfully ask that you stay away.” His gaze flickered back to Eddie. “From all of us.”

Eddie felt stunned. Lyssa’s shoulders sank, but she showed no surprise. Just acceptance. As if she expected nothing less.

Seeing
that
was almost as terrible as hearing Lannes reject her.

Anger settled hard in his chest like a cold, iron ball. “How can you say that, Lannes? After
everything
she did for you and Lethe? She
saved
you both.”

Lyssa wrapped her hands around his arm. “He’s trying to be your friend. It’s not personal.”

“Of course it’s personal.”

“No, he’s right.”

“Listen to her,” Lannes said. “You don’t understand what she is.”

“I know what matters.”

“No,” he said, grim. “And what you don’t know might kill you.”

Lyssa flinched. Eddie stepped in front of her. “We’re not having this conversation.”

“We
have
to.”

“You can go to hell.”

“
Stop,
” Lyssa cried, and the strangled grief in her voice made both men go quiet and stare.

“Stop,” she said again, and looked at Eddie, then Lannes, with tortured eyes. “Please, stop this. I’ll go. I promise, I’ll go . . . and I will never come near your family again. Just don’t . . . don’t lose your friendship over this. I’m not worth it.”

But it was too late. He remembered what the old woman, Ursula, had said to Lyssa about her mother—how she had been treated unfairly. He recalled her bitterness about Long Nu, hert L reme confession that friends and family had rejected her parents.

He had the horrible suspicion that this was how she had lived her life—pushed away, for no reason. Pushed away for some reason that couldn’t possibly matter.

Every protective instinct railed against that—everything in him, battling the urge to sink his fist in Lannes’s face.

That wasn’t him, though. Fighting was not
him.
But being with Lyssa, seeing her pain, turned his entire sense of self upside down.

He wasn’t sure he could trust his own heart or the blood in his veins, or his instincts—but he also knew he didn’t have a choice. Everything in him was pulling toward
her.
Even now, all he wanted to do was put her behind him, against him, and protect her. With his last breath.

Eddie covered her hand, and squeezed. Lyssa stared at him, still and pale, lost in his jacket.

“You’re worth it,” he told her. “You’re worth it to me.”

A hush fell between them. Nothing else mattered but the way she looked at him, but there were no words for what he saw in her eyes. Maybe grief. Maybe joy. Maybe anguish. He felt as though he were dangling from a cliff by his fingertips, ready to fall—or be caught.

Lyssa pulled her hand from his arm and stepped back. Eddie didn’t move a muscle or breathe, though his heart felt as though needles were jabbing and cutting it free of its moorings.

Falling. He was falling, and no one was going to catch him.

He watched her turn and face Lannes, who observed her with unease.

“I never asked to be found,” she told him. “And while I know
exactly
why I make you uneasy . . . don’t you
dare
take that out on him. Don’t be that small-hearted. He doesn’t deserve it.” Her voice broke a little. “You’re lucky he cares about you. If you throw that away, because of
me . . .”

Warmth pooled in Eddie’s chest. Suddenly, he could breathe again.

Lannes unfolded his arms and made a slashing motion with his hand. The illusion surrounding him flowed away in tendrils of light, revealing silver skin and hard muscle, and folds of wings that fell around his massive arms.

“I don’t toss out friends,” he rumbled. “But I do protect them. You know why he’s not safe with you.”

Fire rolled off Eddie’s hands. Actual flames, throwing off sparks that hissed and crackled in the air.

“Lannes,” he warned, just as someone else said the gargoyle’s name—even more sharply, with
real
annoyance.

Lethe emerged from the hall, pale, hair mussed, with shadows under her eyes. Maybe she had been resting, or making a call . . . but she walked up to her husband and craned her neck to stare at him. Then, she poked his chest.

“This isn’t you,” she said. “Lyssa Andreanos saved our lives. You owe her
more
than the benefit of the doubt. And if you won’t bend on this, I will.”

Lannes looked away. “Call me a hypocrite if you want, but—”

“You’re a hypocrite. My family called you a monster and told you to get lost. Now you’re going to do the same thing? You’re going to be a father. Not a maniac.”

“Is there a difference?” he asked, with some exasperation.

Lethe walked to Lyssa, and before anyone could react, reached out and hugged her, hard. Lannes cursed to himself. Lyssa tensed, surprise flickering over her face. But finally, she patted the other woman’s back, awkwardly.

“I’m not a hugger, just so you know,” Lethe told her, pulling back. “You’re welcome in our home, anytime you want.”

“Er,” said Lyssa, glancing at the gargoyle. “I don’t know if that would be a good idea.”

Lethe set her jaw. “I mean it. I just spoke with Ursula.”

“What?” Lannes said.

His wife ignored him. “Thank you. For everything.”

Lyssa looked uncomfortable. “It was nothing.”

Lethe’s smile held real warmth, and compassion. “We both know that’s not true.” She glanced at Eddie, then Lannes. “Both of you, out. I want to speak with Lyssa alone.”

“No,” Lannes said. “She’s—”

“Get over it,” Eddie interrupted, and shot Lyssa a quick look. “You okay with this?”

She hesitated a heartbeat too long. “Yes.”

Eddie stepped in front of her, blocking the others from sight. Making it just the two of them. Searching her gaze. Letting her search his. Waiting.

Lyssa relaxed a little and gave him a faint smile.

“I’m sure,” she said, to his unasked question.

“Okay.” Eddie backed away and glanced at Lannes. “Come on.”

The gargoyle hesitated, but his wife pushed him to the door. Eddie paused just outside the apartment and gave Lyssa one last look. She stood alone in the center of the room, hugging her right arm against her body, her gaze lost and distant, and filled with sadness.

Lannes waited at the bottom of the stairs, illusion firmly in place. Eddie stopped several steps above. A full minute passed in silence.

Finally, Lannes sighed. “I repair antique books, Eddie. It’s quiet work, and I don’t go searching out trouble. I used to do that, and you know what happened.” He looked him dead in the eyes. “Do you know what you’re doing?”

Eddie set his jaw. “Yes.”

“Do you know why you’re suddenly immune to magic?”

No answer for that. Lannes sighed. “No, you don’t know what you’re doing.”

“You said you wanted to help this girl who was being hunted by witches.”

“She
is
a witch.”

“So is your wife.”

Lannes grimaced. “Fine. But it’s worse than that.”

Eddie looked down at the scars on his hand. “What is it?”

“Do you know what gargoyles used to do, back in the ancient datheandys? Did my brother ever tell you?”

A chill filled him. “He said your kind hunted demons.”

“No more of those around. Not the way there used to be. But they bred with humans, and every now and then . . . you run across some of those descendants. Humans, with a flick of demon in them. We’ve got a sixth sense for that sort of thing.”

Eddie steeled himself. “And?”

Lannes gave him a hard look. “I thought it was just the witch vibe I was picking up. But it was more than that. Lyssa Andreanos is not just a shape-shifter, and she’s not only a witch.

“She’s part demon, too.”

L
ethe came downstairs first, but she would not tell them what they had discussed. Instead, she leaned against her husband, one of his massive arms slung around her waist, and closed her eyes with a sigh that seemed to travel through her body and his at the same time.

“I like her,” she said to Lannes. “Give her a chance.”

He grunted, but his tone was softer than it had been up in the apartment. Eddie had spoken his mind, just between the two of them—and so had Lannes.

He looked away and found Lyssa coming down the stairs, taking each step with slow, careful grace—and some wariness. Eddie walked up the stairs to meet her. She stopped, teetering, searching his eyes.

“You okay?” he asked.

She gave him an uncertain look. “Fine. You?”

He brushed his lips over her cheek.

“Better now,” he whispered, in her ear. Lyssa let out her breath, tension flowing from her shoulders.

She wasn’t certain I’d still be here,
he thought, watching her peer around him at the gargoyle.

Lannes looked at her, as well. And then Eddie.

“We’re done here,” Lethe said, and pushed open the door to walk outside, letting in a blast of sound. “We’re going to the airport and taking a flight back to Maine.”

The stairwell had been quiet, musty, and dark. The city on the other side of the door hurt his eyes: too many headlights, so many people. He thought about fire, and skinned shape-shifters, witches and demons. Danger, everywhere. No place could possibly be safe.