Mercy Burns (10 page)

“You know, it’d be nice if you actually asked me to do something easy for a change.”

I laughed. “You get everything I’ve requested, and I’ll feed you for a week.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

He would, too. Not that I minded—not if he came through with the information. And I had no doubt that he would. Phoenix Investigations had a reputation for getting the job done quickly and efficiently, and a lot of that was due not only to the psychics in its employ, but to Leith’s ability to source the most innocuous details. “I’m at Trae’s for the moment, but I may be in and out, so I’ll give you a call later in the day.”

“I’ll wait with bated breath.”

I snorted and hung up, then leaned back against the wooden wall of the apartment and let the sunlight
soak through me just a little longer. After a few minutes, I sighed and headed back inside to google Whale Point, the town that had given Angus his scars. I didn’t expect to find anything, and I got precisely what I expected—nothing. Of course, that didn’t mean the town hadn’t existed or that he’d been lying. It just meant that the truth had been so obscured by his lies that it was hard to tell one from the other. Part of me still wanted to go there today, if only to source out who and what might be waiting for me. But that was a risk I couldn’t take—not after Janelle’s warning.

It meant my only choice now was Angus. And while I wasn’t sure if talking to him again would clarify the situation, I had to try. He was the closest I’d come to getting some answers so far.

I looked at my watch and saw it was barely one. Obviously, time was intent on crawling by.

I switched on the TV, then headed into the kitchen to make myself another sandwich. After grabbing a soda from the fridge, I headed back into the living room—arriving just in time to see a local news report about a fire at a bar on Fillmore Street.

It took me only a second to realize it was the same bar I’d met Angus in. I grabbed the remote and turned up the sound.

“Police are treating the fire and deaths as suspicious,” the reporter said. “Several survivors have been interviewed, and one man is currently being questioned by the police.”

On the screen they showed the back of a dark-haired man whose gait was all too familiar. He walked beside several police officers, and while he wasn’t
handcuffed or anything, they were heading in the general direction of a police car.

I just about choked on my sandwich. What the hell had Damon been doing at the bar? Had he caused the fire and the subsequent deaths? Part of me wanted to think he hadn’t, but there was no escaping the fact that he’d described himself as a killer.

Still, if they’d had any actual evidence against him, surely he would have been arrested rather than merely taken in to be interviewed. I didn’t know a whole lot about the workings of the police and the law, but that seemed the logical route.

Maybe I should go down there and provide him with an alibi. I’d been with him a good part of the night, after all, and even though he’d stolen heat from both the guards, he was a full dragon and restricted by the rule of night. He couldn’t flame, even if he had been at full strength.

Hell, even daylight might not have helped him. It could take days to get back the sort of strength needed to set a fire that large. At least, it would for an ordinary dragon.

But there were other ways of lighting fires, and surely a dragon trained as an assassin would not be above using them.

In truth, the part of me that wanted to help him was undoubtedly the same part that remembered the feel of his lips on mine, and the way the merest hint of a smile had sent my pulse racing like a mad thing.

I
hated
that reaction. Or rather, hated the fact that it was aimed yet again at the wrong sort of man. Why couldn’t my hormones pick some kind, gentle,
normal
man for a change?

Of course, the
sane
part of me—the part that actually remembered the pain of trusting too easily and that had sworn never to trust like that again—was reluctant to go anywhere near him.

After all, there was a very real possibility that he
was
responsible. I had no idea when the fire had started. No idea where he’d gone after he’d left me.

And yet I felt like I owed him. While I might have gotten us out of that cellar, he’d gotten us free of the house and made sure I’d arrived at Trae’s safely.

I gulped down my sandwich, then jumped off the sofa and headed for the phone once again. Before I decided what to do, I needed to find out where he’d be. The bar was on Fillmore Street, so it seemed logical he would have been taken to Northern Station, but I wanted to be sure before I wasted cash on cab fare.

Robyn would know that sort of information. She was one of the crime reporters at the
Chronicle
and had been a friend since journalism school. She was also very human—and didn’t know that I wasn’t.

“Hey, chickie,” she said, voice its ever-cheery self when I phoned. “How you doing?”

“Not bad, considering that in the last twenty-four hours I’ve been run off the road, drugged, and then kidnapped.”

“No! Seriously? Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” I hesitated. “I was told the
Chronicle
ran a story on the accident?”

“Not that I know of. I’m sure Frankie would have mentioned one of our own being in an accident, and he knows we’re friends.”

“That’s what I thought.” So Angus
had
been lying.
“Listen, I need some help with a story I’m tracking down.”

“And here I was thinking you were off on a vacation with that mad friend of yours.”

“I was. Am.”
Only the mad friend is dead and I need to save her soul
. “But I caught a whiff of something that may or may not amount to anything.”

“If it amounts to anything, I want the details. In full and over coffee. And cake.”

“Done deal.” Although the details would be highly modified, given she had no idea what I was. “What can you tell me about the fire on Fillmore Street last night?”

“Nothing much more than what’s been said on TV. Why?”

“Because I know the man arrested for it, and I don’t think he did it.”

“No one was arrested.” Confusion darkened her tone. “Although a Damon Rey was taken in for questioning.”

Well, at least he’d given me his correct name. “What station is he at?”

“None of them. I think they released him about an hour ago.”

“Damn.” Why I was disappointed I couldn’t entirely say. At least it solved the problem of me having to provide an alibi for the man. “What time did the fire start?”

“Witnesses say about three, but the arson investigators have only just started sifting through the ruins.”

Which meant he
could
have been responsible. Damn, damn, and damn.

“He’s staying at the Ritz-Carlton, if that’s of any use,” Robyn said.

Who’d have guessed Death was a five-star sort of guy? “How do you know all this shit?”

“It’s my job,” she said drily. “And I’m good at what I do. So you’re not even going to give me the slightest hint as to how this fire is connected to what happened to you?”

“Not yet. But we
will
have that cake.”

“I’ll hold you to it.”

I smiled and hung up. Now what? It was still too early to go find Angus—Janelle said he wouldn’t be at the boat until this evening, and she wasn’t often wrong.

So, what next?

I knew what I
wanted
to do. It might be stupid, but I wanted to see Damon again. I had a feeling he could answer more than a few of my questions—not that he actually
would
.

I bit my bottom lip for a moment, then thought:
What the hell?
I had nothing to lose by at least trying.

I grabbed a sweater, raided the cash my brother kept in his so-called secret spot, then headed out. I caught a cab, but the traffic was its usual chaotic self, so I got out near the Fairmont and walked the rest of the way. The Ritz looked as impressive as ever, its grand façade almost seeming to belong to another century, one more suited to horse-drawn vehicles and ladies in fine silks.

I crossed the road and headed into the foyer. After a moment of admiring the lush surroundings, I headed over to the reception desk. A pleasant-looking woman gave me a friendly smile and said, “May I help you?”

“I’m looking for Damon Rey. He’s a guest here.”

“I can give him a call and let him know you wish to see him, if you like.”

“That would be great.” Even if it wasn’t. He was just as likely to send me away as see me.

“Who shall I say is calling?”

I hesitated. “Just tell him Mercy Reynolds is downstairs waiting for him.”

She nodded and made the call. She didn’t say anything, which meant he wasn’t answering, a fact she confirmed minutes later. “I’m sorry, but he doesn’t appear to be in. Would you like to leave him a message?”

“Sure. Thanks.”

She handed me a notepad. I scrawled down my name and my brother’s phone number, then pushed it back.

“Will that be all?” she asked.

“Yes. Thank you.”

I walked away. So much for
that
great idea. Maybe I should just head down to Angus’s place, and hang around on the off chance he would get there earlier than Janelle predicted.

I exited the hotel, smiling at the doorman as he wished me a good day, and headed toward California Street. But I’d barely taken a dozen steps when my heart just about leaped into my throat and I froze. In the shadows of the trees lining the curb was one of the men Damon had knocked out last night—the guard with the silky voice.

God, I was stupid.
Stupid
.

If I could trace Damon to the Ritz, it stood to reason his kidnappers could, too. Hell, for all I knew, this could have been where they’d captured him in the first place.

I needed to get out of here—and
fast
.

But even as the thought crossed my mind, he looked up. I didn’t have to see his expression to know his anger and his sense of triumph. The feel of it rode across the breeze.

He pushed away from the tree.

I turned and ran down the street and right onto Pine Street, scattering pedestrians as I went. I swung right again, keeping to the shadows of the trees and hoping against hope that I was faster.

A quick glance over my shoulder proved that I wasn’t.

Fear slipped through me. I thought about stopping, about asking for help, but I just couldn’t risk anyone else’s safety. Besides, I
could
protect myself if I really needed to, and other people—especially if they were human—would just get in the way. Even with the tight control I had over my flames, things could very easily get out of hand in a street filled with cars and people. I didn’t want anyone getting hurt. I couldn’t live with that guilt.

So I kept on running.

My pulse was racing as fast as my feet and sweat was beginning to trickle down my spine. I’d let my fitness slip since leaving my clique, and I might just pay the price for that slackness now, because the footsteps of my pursuer were getting closer and closer.

Panic rolled through me, sending a surge of energy through my legs. Somehow, my speed increased, and the footsteps seemed just a shade farther behind.

I couldn’t let them catch me again. I just
couldn’t
. There’d be no second escape, of that I was sure.

I turned left onto California Street. More people,
more parked cars, trees, and lots of big tall buildings. And nowhere to hide that wouldn’t endanger others, leaving me with little option but to keep going. I ran across the street, heard the screech of brakes from behind, and jumped sideways. The hood of a green car slid past my side, missing me by inches. It came to a halt between me and my pursuer, but instead of the irate driver flinging abuse, he reached backward and flung the door open. A familiar voice said, “Get in.”

I didn’t hesitate, just dived into the backseat and slammed the door shut. With a squeal of rubber, Damon took off. My pursuer quickly became a speck lost to the distance, then disappeared altogether as we sped down another street.

I collapsed back into the seat and let out a relieved breath. “Thank you,” I said, wiping the sweat from my forehead with a shaking hand.

“What the hell were you doing at the Ritz?” he said, voice not in the least bit friendly.

“Looking for you.”

“And it didn’t occur to you that our kidnappers might well be doing the same thing?”

“Not until I saw that guy waiting outside, no.”

He shook his head, his dark gaze meeting mine briefly at the edge of the rearview mirror. “Stupid.”

Heat burned into my cheeks and sparks flickered briefly across my fingertips. I clenched my hand and tried to calm the annoyance. “I realize that now. I don’t need your admonishment on top of it.”

He grunted slightly, swung the car onto another street, then said, “What did you want to see me about?”

“I saw on the news that you’d been arrested—”

“Not arrested,” he corrected, and I swear there was
humor in his voice, even though there was little emotion to be tasted on the air. “Just answering a few questions.”

“We both know that’s only one step from being arrested.” I paused. “Did you set that blaze?”

He contemplated me through the rearview mirror for a moment. “What do you think?”

“I think you’re crazy enough to set a bar alight.” I studied his back and wondered if anyone could ever accurately tell what this man was thinking. I certainly couldn’t. Not at the moment, anyway. “But I don’t think you actually did.”

A smile tugged at his lips. “Nice to know my fellow prisoner has a little faith in me.”

“I don’t have faith in anyone but my brother and Rainey.” And she was dead. I looked briefly out the window, wondering where we were going and realizing I didn’t really care, then added, “It’s a simple matter of facts. You were locked up for thirteen days without sunlight. Even with the heat you stole, I doubt you’d have been able to maintain enough fire to set that building alight.”

“There are other ways to light a fire, you know. Even dragons can use them.”

“Yeah, but you seem the type to want to do your own dirty work, right down to the flame that kills.”