“Where you swooped in like a white knight and picked me up from the side of the road.”
I’d expected a laugh. Instead, Evans got quiet and pretended to be engrossed in his meal.
“I’m all right,” I said.
He dropped his chopsticks in the box. “In the car, on the way here, you were muttering in your sleep.”
“What did I say?”
“It was crazy shit. Names I hadn’t heard of. Things about the exits, about watching them open. You were calling to someone.”
“Who?”
Evans ran a hand over his face, thinking. “I don’t know. I couldn’t make out most of it.” He stared a moment. “You were tortured, weren’t you? Beaten?”
Grateful for his concern, I smiled. “I can take a hit.”
“And what you saw happen to Ronan? Can you take that, too?”
“So you did understand my half-conscious ramblings.”
“You were pretty clear about that part.”
I glanced away.” “I’ve watched people die before. I’ve watched things that aren’t people die for a lot more years than you’ve been alive.”
“Sorry. You’re right. Sometimes it’s hard to remember that under this,” he gestured at me—pale, bruised, and curled up in the blanket—“is a badass elderly dragon girl.” I elbowed him and he feigned a grimace of pain. “But what happened to your friend, Ronan…” His expression sobered. “It sounded pretty traumatic. You should talk to someone.”
Refusing to let his compassion get to me, I laughed. “You mean a therapist? And what do I say? That my ex was a cheating half dragon shapeshifter? Or that I just spent the last half hour scrubbing pieces of him out of my hair?”
“Maybe you should leave out the details. But that doesn’t mean they’ll just go away.”
“I don’t want them to go away. I want to remember every gory second. Killing Brynne will feel much better that way.” He opened his mouth, and I talked right over him. “Before you tell me revenge isn’t healthy, remember your dead high school friend, and why you joined the force. The difference is you’re human. I’m not. I won’t feel sad when she’s gone. I won’t care who might miss her. Because no one will miss her, Casey. She’s lyrriken. No one will give a shit that she’s gone. Least of all me.”
He stiffened and looked away, but I didn’t take it back. It was all true.
Evans got up and went to the kitchen. I sat, doing my best not to think. I pushed the scales out over my hand and pulled them in again; repeating the motion; enjoying the feel of something simple.
A few minutes later, he came back with half a bagel in one hand and a glass of water in the other. “I drank the last of your coffee. I’ll buy some later.” Evans sat the glass on the side table and handed me the bagel. “Your story is that Brynne took you and held you captive somewhere you can’t identify. You were blindfolded, kept in the dark. Drugged, maybe, with whatever knocked us out at the club. Last night she left, and you escaped. You were too woozy to notice your surroundings. You wandered for a while before making it back to your apartment.” Watching me devour my breakfast, lines of apprehension tightened his face. “Can you sell that? I know it’s a lot of lies to remember.”
Hiding my smile, I wiped the cream cheese off my lips. “I can manage.”
“Creed’s going to be pissed you came home and washed off the evidence.”
“Pissed, but not surprised.”
“Probably not.” Evans dug in his front pocket. “This was useful last night, but I thought you might want it back.” He pulled out the keychain I’d given him and held it up. “The key to your secret door.”
“You love saying that, don’t you?”
He shrugged like he didn’t. Then, added under his breath, “Key to your secret lair sounds better.”
“I don’t have a secret lair.”
“Not yet.”
Shoving the last bite in my mouth, I rolled my eyes. “Keep it.”
“You sure?” he said, but he was already slipping it back in his pocket.
“The front door is fine once in a while, but you shouldn’t be seen hanging out here all the time. Especially now.” I didn’t need to explain why. He knew the mess of questions headed my way. If Barnes discovered Evans knew my whereabouts and didn’t report it, his involvement with me, and every move he’d made in the case so far, would be picked apart. “Just make me a copy when you get a chance.”
“I got you a new phone while you were asleep.”
Surprise softened my voice. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“I know.” He reached into another pocket. “They were able to transfer some of your pictures and contacts.”
“It’s okay. I didn’t have many.”
Evans dropped the phone on the couch beside me. “Your gym buddy sent a couple of texts while you were in the shower, but you need to call Barnes. The sooner you go down to the station and give your statement, the sooner he’ll let you back on the case.”
I picked up the phone and stared at it. “Maybe I shouldn’t.”
“Shouldn’t what?”
“Get back on the case. Getting involved has only put more people in danger.”
“So what, we’re flying solo on this now?”
Deciding not to point out that solo didn’t mean we, I shook my head. “I don’t know.”
“I’d tell you not to worry about it, that Brynne is dead,” he paused as he sat on the arm of the couch, “but supernatural bad guys never go down that easy. Still, we might get lucky. If your dragon Queen gets half as pissed as Barnes does when we fuck up, then—” Evans drew a dramatic finger across his throat.
“Brynne will do everything she can to avoid capture until I’m dead. And if anyone can survive a nageun swarm, it’s her.”
“A what…?”
“I’ll tell you later, over a drink.”
“More than one, I hope. Just not at Nadine’s. Nothing against the woman, or whatever she is, but I had one hell of a hangover after she whammied me.”
“How did you know it was her?”
“She tried apologizing…in private…with various parts of her body…five times.”
“Sorry,” I grimaced. “Subtle isn’t something Nadine understands.”
He ran a guilty hand back over his hair. “I didn’t mind that much.”
We both laughed, but he was too distracted for it to stick.
“What are you thinking?” I said.
“I don’t want to tell you what to do. And I’m not. This is your party. If you think it’s best to handle it alone, fine. I’ve got your back. But if you cut Creed out now, if you play dead and the department discovers you’re alive, there’s no going back. That bridge is burned. Unless…that’s what you want, to cut and run, to go back to your world.” Under a few errant strands of uncombed hair, Evans’s forehead crinkled. “Because if it is, if it’s not safe for you here and you want to leave, then that’s…”
I gave him a push. “It’s what?”
“Completely understandable. Completely.” He gestured the second time, as if it might help convince me he was telling the truth.
It didn’t.
Wary expectance lurked in his eyes. Disappointment hid inside his words. Almost overnight, Evans had come to believe he was an integral part of my life. It was cute, and slightly scary, because others had believed it too.
Ronan said it in anger the night he broke into my apartment. This wasn’t the first time I’d tried to put down roots. It wasn’t the first time I’d convinced myself it would last, that I believed I could make connections without repercussions. Each time I’d wanted the same thing: to live one life, to be one person. But I can’t, I thought. I’m two.
I grew up embracing lyrriken ways. I’d spent my time here becoming human. Maybe there was no way to be both. Maybe I have to choose.
Screw that.
Thirty-Eight
My wardrobe had taken a beating in the last week. With a lot of empty hangers and not
much to choose from, I threw on jeans, a halter top, and my least favorite pair of boots. Considering the week I was having, I figured they wouldn’t last the day. I hadn’t seen my knife since I left Nadine’s, but I wasn’t going anywhere unarmed again. Not even the police station. Being a mere arson consultant, I imagined most would consider it overkill if I showed up armed, but I didn’t care. I dug my belt holster out of the closet and slipped it on. After making sure it was loaded, I stuck my weapon in and covered the bulge on my hip with a hooded jacket.
The whole time I was in my room, I hadn’t once looked in the mirror. I hadn’t cleaned the fog off the one in the bathroom, either. Since waking, the strangest sensation had been lurking on my shoulders. It was an anxious, uneasy feeling. As if, I stared too long at my own reflection, the pain I knew was inside me—the fresh trauma of my less-than-ideal homecoming—would manifest.
It was stupid and neurotic. Only in dreams did my ghosts rear their ugly annoying heads. But if for some reason it was possible now, if something was there, I didn’t want to know.
Grabbing my new phone and my keys, I pulled my hood up against potentially watchful eyes, and headed out. After a quick stop at Sal’s to set his mind at ease, it was straight to the police station. Walking unannounced into Gattlin Barnes’s office, after disappearing for two days, would fast track me into an interrogation room. But it couldn’t be helped. I needed the backlash over so I could get back to work, because Casey was right. There were repercussions to severing my ties with the police. And I couldn’t let Creed work the case without me. Brynne had already sent him to the hospital once.
Rain had been beating steadily on my ragtop when I got in. Between the weather and the early morning die-hards, I wasn’t expecting to find a decent parking space. Surprisingly, as I turned onto the block, the street was empty. I claimed a spot across from Sal’s and turned off the engine. Opening the door, I jumped over the lake-sized puddle surrounding my jeep. Soggy trash bags and overflowing dumpsters lined the sidewalk, awaiting pickup. The storm had eased, and an uncomfortable mugginess was settling in. Bands of steam drifted up from the cracked asphalt, frizzing my hair, and coaxing a not-so-nice odor from the garbage bins.
It was far from a postcard moment. Still, I wasn’t being kidnapped, beaten, or tied up, so it was better than yesterday.
Crossing the street, I noticed the Closed sign in the window. Sal had neglected to change it before, but this time the door was locked. A peek through the tinted windows confirmed the lights were out, and no one was inside. The abundance of parking made sense now.
I shot Sal a text and knocked on the door as I waited.
He wrote a minute later. Power’s out. I’m on the phone, fighting with the power company. I left the back open for you.
I grinned, knowing whoever was on the other end of Sal’s phone had no chance.
Walking up the block, I kept my head low and my ears open. Getting jumped, shot at, followed, or even arrested wasn’t out of the question. Getting recognized was a possibility as well. I wasn’t sure how aggressive the SCPD was in their search to find me, but if my face had been on TV, Oren was going to kill me.
I turned into the rain-wet alley behind Sal’s. A quick check found only a hunched, tarp-covered man crammed into a doorway on the opposite wall. He was human, but I still kept him in my sight as I counted the unmarked, identical doors that lined the back of the close-fitting concrete buildings.
Stopping in front of door number six, I glanced around before pulling it open. Daylight shot in across the floor, scattering the heavy dark of the windowless storeroom. Not enjoying the nauseating amount of lemon-scented cleaner in the air, I held my breath as I moved between the metal storage shelves that dissected the square space. The aroma thinned as I opened the interior door and walked out into the gym.
Dodging the heavy bags, I passed the locker rooms and the weight racks. Sal’s office was on the far wall, just inside the front entrance. The picture windows flanking his office door gave him a clear view of the elevated boxing ring in the center of the gym floor. Even when Sal wasn’t offering up to the minute advice from inside the ring, he was always watching.
Noticing the blinds drawn on his windows, I paused. The door was ajar. It was quiet. I couldn’t hear him on the phone.
“Sal?” I called out. “You in there?”
He didn’t answer. Focusing, I breathed in. Interlaced with the typical gym smell was the unmistakable scent of lyrriken and traces of human blood. I moved a hand to my weapon and approached the office.
The mess on the floor was visible through the gap in the door. Pushing it open slowly, revealed remnants of a busted coffee mug, scattered papers and folders, a spill of paperclips, and a trail of coffee grounds. The cactus beside the copier was overturned. The lamp on the credenza had been knocked into the wall. Its shade was askew, directing the light in a perfect angle to shine on Sal; sitting in his desk chair. He was facing me, but on the wrong side, with the back of his chair pushed up against the front panel. Brynne was perched on the desktop behind him, in human form, with her arms and legs wrapped around Sal’s body in a firm, but playful embrace.
I didn’t have to ask what hell she’d gone through to escape the nageun. It was evident in her torn, stained uniform and ragged hair. Blood and dirt streaked her skin and coated Ella’s pendant around her neck. She had a chilling amount of partially healed wounds; lacerations, bruises, burns, and bite marks. Yet, they’d healed enough that she was no longer hurting, as she flexed the muscles in her legs and arms; flaunting the strength of her hold on Sal. He winced deeply at the increased pressure, as if the visible bloody contusions on his face weren’t his only injuries.
Still, despite whatever Brynne had done, he was holding up well. Sweat layered Sal’s pale skin, but his expression was more anger than pain. Our eyes met and satisfaction crept in. Next, a hint of fear, as if he were worried what might happen to me. Or what I might do.
“Dahlia,” Brynne said happily. “We’ve been waiting.” She leaned in close to Sal and rubbed her battered head against his. “You’re adorable friend was just giving me a lesson in boxing. He has some moves, for an old human. But I’m afraid he’s a little bit of a sore loser. Or maybe he’s just sore.” She hugged Sal fiercely, tightening her arms until he moaned.
“Goddamn…bitch,” he gasped.
“Sal,” I said sternly. “Zip it.”
Brynne eased up. “And you think I’m the bitch?” she muttered to him.
“All right,” I said. “You’ve had your fun. I’m here, like you wanted. Let him go.”
“Please,” she groaned in Sal’s ear, “tell me she isn’t always this boring. I don’t know how you stand it. Doesn’t it make you just want to…die?”
“Brynne,” I warned, “you don’t want to hurt him.”
“Clearly, Dahlia,” she mocked, “you haven’t been paying attention. But if this pale sack of feeble bones,” she squeezed her legs tighter, “means so much to you, I’ll make a deal. I know you have a gun. Drop it, and I’ll let him go.”
“After falling into that horde of nageun, you’re worried about a bullet?”
“Did you forget I fell in water? It took nothing for me to pump their filthy bodies full until they burst. What I’m worried about, is you shooting me in the head, and taking my heart before I wake up.”
“Damn. You discovered my master plan. Now what am I going to do?”
Brynne’s ice-blue eyes narrowed.
I pulled my weapon out and tossed it across the office floor. “Happy?”
Predictably, Brynne’s hold tightened. Sal cried out as his torso contracted further. He wriggled, but with his arms pinned to his chest, he was helpless as Brynne crushed the air from his lungs.
“I’m not in the mood for games, Brynne. Let me know when you’re ready for a real fight.” Turning away, I felt Sal’s gaze burning into my back.
I got two feet out the door when his body crashed through the office window to my righ
t. Tumbling head over heels in a storm of glass and broken blinds, Sal’s back struck the corner post of the boxing ring, and he sunk to the floor.
Brynne leapt through the broken frame. Smelling a familiar, swiftly gathering heat, I released a measure of my scales. They replaced my human skin seconds before the fire left her hands and shot toward me. Diving for the floor, flames skimmed my body. My scales took the heat, and I rolled clear, with only a stubborn tendril clinging to the back of my jacket. I stripped the smoldering garment off and got to my feet.
Brynne was already advancing. As she scattered the splintered glass with her hurried steps, I glanced at the rack of iron weights beside me. Taking one in each hand, I hurled the plates at her legs. She twisted her body clear, and the weights embedded in the wall behind her. I threw another, and another. I knew Brynne would dodge them. But it slowed her down, giving me a chance to glance at Sal to confirm he was alive.
When I saw him move, I drew the fire into my hands.
I tried to conserve my shots. Brynne was far less careful. Singeing walls, searing the floor and exploding the heavy bags, she wasn’t trying to take me out. She was having fun. But I couldn’t let her destroy the place. I couldn’t let her scar it like she had so many others.
Aiming my flame at the ceiling, I trained it on the large metal pendant light hanging above Brynne’s head. The ceiling fixture melted, releasing the pendant. As the light fell, she jumped, rolling to the side—right into the path of the second one as I burned it loose. The light plummeted down, striking her on the head.
Brynne staggered back. I vaulted over the weight bench between us and thrust both boots into her chest. She hit the square wooden beam behind her and bounced off into my waiting grip.
Fire lit the edges of my hand as it embraced her plated throat. “I thought I could be different here. Better than I was on Drimera. I thought my empathy, my unique perspective on pain made me value life in a way I couldn’t before. I thought I’d never kill one of my own again. Executioner was something I did, not what I was. Then you nailed that family to the floor….” Squeezing, I lifted Brynne up off the ground. It would take longer to crush her windpipe with the protection of her scales, but I wasn’t in a hurry.
Nite Fire: Flash Point Page 39