Authors: Marjorie M. Liu
T
he first shape-shifter Lyssa had ever met, besides her father, was an old woman with sharp teeth and a sharper heart. Nothing soft inside her. No compassion for anyone who strayed past a certain line.
A line her father had crossed in marrying her mother.
A line, said the old woman, with a price.
Exile, for starters. And one day, perhaps, death.
The threat of death was a bluff, she realized later.
Long Nu would not have dared cross Lyssa’s mother.
Even dragons were scared of the dark.
T
he old shape-shifter had not changed at all. Same wrinkles, same coiffed hair, old, knowing eyes, and a half smile that was cold as ice.
“You,” Lyssa said.
Long Nu drew in a deep breath. A man appeared at the end of the hall, big in the shoulders and tall. He had a craggy face, and brown hair that needed a cut. He smelled like the inside of a liquor cabinet, but his eyes were sharp with intelligence.
Roland,
she thought.
Eddie’s boss.
Lyssa had wanted to make a good impression, but with Long Nu present . . . she gave up on that plan. Things were going to get ugly.
“Is there a problem?” Roland asked gruffly, striding toward them.
“I don’t know,” Eddie said, watching Long Nu. “Is there?”
“Yes,” replied Lyssa, stepping off the elevator, taking some small pleasure in making the dragon-woman back up. “We’ve got a problem.”
“I’m here,” Long Nu said stiffly. “I’m facing you.”
Lyssa slapped her. Right hand. With all her strength.
“Fuck,” said Roland, while Eddie let out a muffled sound of surprise.
Long Nu did not go down, but almost. Holding her face, she stared at Lyssa with contempt—but also a hint of fear. “Is that all?”
Rage flowed. Pounding, throbbing, fury. The dragon inside Lyssa unfurled its wings, and a terrible ache raced down her right arm. Her vision faded into a golden haze.
“Don’t tempt me,” she whispered . . . and, finally, Long Nu averted her eyes. Lyssa stepped closer. “Show me your hands.”
“Hey,” snapped Roland. “What the hell is this?”
“Lyssa,” murmured Eddie.
“I want to make sure she’s not holding a weapon,” she told the men, her gaze never leaving Long Nu. “Do it.”
Stiff, chin raised, the old woman held out her hands—palms up.
“Now back away,” Lyssa told her.
“You’re a stupid child,” whispered Long Nu. “I never tried to kill you.”
“You promised my father that you’d try,” she shot back. “What was it you said? ‘
Monsters shouldn’t breed
’? I remember that like it was yesterday.”
Eddie stiffened. The big man, Roland, stared at the back of Long Nu’s head as though he could see right through it. A scowl tugged at his mouth.
The old woman backed away. Lyssa’s clawed right hand ached to strike another brik="0em" widlow, but she fought down the urge with the same strength and desperation that she used to fight her hunger for blood. If she started fighting Long Nu, she would not stop.
And she would win. She knew that, sure as she was breathing.
It would be worth it,
whispered the dragon.
Eddie touched her back, placing himself between her and Long Nu. “Come on.”
The old woman’s nostrils flared as Eddie and Lyssa walked past her.
Lyssa saw that the apartment was huge once they reached the end of the long corridor. Floor-to-ceiling windows stretched from one end of the room to the other, and the entire space was filled with comfortable chairs, and long antique tables laden with newspapers and books.
She didn’t let herself admire the view, instead putting her back to the window so that she could face Long Nu.
The woman was as graceful as ever, but Lyssa had the benefit now of being older, with ten years of hard living behind her. She was no longer scared of the old dragon. Or as naïve about her own power.
Eddie stood very close: an anchor, her broad shoulder to lean on. His presence helped her focus.
“Be honest,” said Lyssa. “You hoped I was dead, all these years.”
“Not exactly,” replied Long Nu in a cold, flat voice. “I found your parents after their murders. When I realized your mother had not killed the other
Cruor Venator,
I was upset. I was even more upset, though, when I didn’t find
your
body. I thought, maybe, if you lived . . . that the witch who killed your family was raising you. Which, frankly, was a bomb waiting to go off that I did
not
look forward to dealing with.”
“Fuck,” said Roland, staring at her.
Eddie said nothing, but heat throbbed off his body, making the air shimmer around them. Lyssa basked in that warmth, breathing deep of it, making herself calm.
“I always suspected,” she said, “that you led the
Cruor Venator
to my family.”
Long Nu shook her head. “No, I did not do that. I promise you, I did not. But you cannot blame me for wishing that your mother had been strong enough to kill the witch.”
“My mother was strong enough . . . but she gave her life to protect mine.” Fury thickened her voice, as did grief. “And yes, I wish she had killed Georgene. But only because I
loved
her.
Not
like you . . . who only wanted to see the lesser of two monsters
gone.
”
Eddie’s hand curled around hers. “Maybe we should go.”
“No,” Roland said gruffly, staring at Long Nu. “Not you.”
Lyssa stepped closer to the old woman, ignoring both men. Power filled her, born from her own blood and spirit, and the dragon waking inside her. She could feel, on the edge of her spirit, the ability to make Long Nu afraid. Afraid, as Nikola and Betty had made others afraid.
But just before she accessed that power, she thought of Estefan, and pulled back.
“Why now, after all these years?” she asked softly.
Long Nu swayed, golden eyes gleaming. “Because the other
Cruor Venator
began killing. She took the life of a shape-shifter in Florida, one who knew you . . . and I realized that she did not have you and that you were alive. And that maybe, just maybe,
you
might be the one to kill the lesser of two monsters.”
Anger filled Lyssa, and disdain. But after a moment, confusion crept upon her, as well.
Lyssa stared. “You knew she killed Estefan?”
“We discovered his murder just before we started looking for you in New York,” Roland said.
She took those words in . . . and turned to look at Eddie. Searching, stunned. He did not hide from her gaze, but his eyes were filled with regret.
“How could I tell you?” he said softly. “How, when we first met, could I have said those words?”
“You could have,” she whispered, even though she knew he was right. It stung, though, that he had kept something so large and important from her. It hurt worse than she could have imagined. Tears threatened, but she pushed them down—and shook her head at him when he moved to touch her.
Eddie stilled. Lyssa summoned up all her strength and met Long Nu’s cool gaze.
“You,” she said in a hoarse voice. “I know how much you value your own skin. I suppose that’s why you didn’t come looking for me yourself. You always had such little faith in my mother . . . and in me.”
Lyssa glanced at Eddie. “She sent you . . . someone who would be a temptation if I’d gone bad. If you lived, she’d know I wasn’t entirely dangerous. If you died, she would have had another answer.”
His jaw tensed. Roland spun away to stare out the window.
Long Nu smoothed down her sleeves. “It was the only way to be sure about you. Perhaps you don’t remember the days of the old
Cruor Venator,
but
I
do. I would do anything to make certain that we not live through another genocide.”
“I would, too,” Lyssa whispered.
The old woman gave her a mirthless smile. “Then kill the other
Cruor Venator.
Do it fast, as you should have when you had the chance. And then never have children. So when you die . . . finally . . . it will be over.
All of you
will be gone.”
Lyssa stared, stunned to hear the vicious clarity of those words.
Eddie stepped forward, his eyes consumed with fury. Flames erupted over his arms, hot and crackling. The firelight reflected off his eyes, turning them briefly golden.
He reminded her, in that split second, of Lannes—when the witches had threatened his wife’s unborn baby.
Her belly clenched. No condoms this morning. She’d known what she was doing and hadn’t cared. She still didn’t. If she was pregnant . . .
I’ll do what my mother did.
I’ll love my baby.
I’ll teach her love.
That was all anyone could do. And she would protect that child with her last breath.
“Stay the hell away from her,” growled Eddie.
“Yes, I made a mistake with you,” murmured Long Nu, unflinching as she met his enraged gaze. “I had no idea you would bond as mates. A
Cruor Venator
shares her protection with her blood match. It happens upon first meeting. I could feel it on you like slime when I saw you together in that elevator.”
Roland stepped in front of her. “Stop talking and get out. Get the fuck out, and don’t come back. I mean it. You’re no longer welcome here.”
She seemed truly surprised. “We have an alliance.”
“We don’t have shit now.” Roland leaned in, his big frame rigid and strained. Lyssa smelled whiskey on his breath and noted his rumpled, slept-in, clothes. “You manipulated me and people I care about.”
He stabbed his finger at Eddie. “This boy is like my son. He is one of the finest people I know. That’s a line no one crosses. And if
he
vouches for Lyssa Andreanos . . . then I don’t care if she has
flying fucking monkeys
coming out of her ass. You leave her
alone.
”
Lyssa raised her brow. Eddie stared at Roland with a look in his eyes that was heartbreakingly vulnerable.
Long Nu backed away. “You’ve made an odd decision today, Roland. Not entirely practical. Or wise.” She gave Lyssa a long hard look. “
Your
father was equally foolish.”
She started forward, but Eddie held her back. “Go to hell. He loved us.”
“Love is rarely enough,” replied the old dragon.
Without another word, she turned and walked down the corridor. The elevator opened for her, she stepped forward . . . and in moments was gone.
Lyssa let out a shaky breath and collapsed into the nearest chair. Eddie sat beside her, with a wildness in his eyes that felt too familiar.
Roland bowed his head, rubbing his neck.
“Both of you,” he said gruffly. “Tell me everything.”
E
ddie found Lyssa on the roof of the old building, watching the city come alive in light.
A fire burned in the copper pit, and her feet were propped up on a wooden bench. She held a bottle of water in her left hand, and her right—ungloved, exposed—hung loose off the arm of her chair.
The wind was sweet. Eddie took a moment, watching her, soaking in the miracle all over again.
I hope I never screw it up.
He ventured close. Lyssa did not turn around but she set down her water. “I smell pizza.”
“There’s an Italian restaurant downstairs. Roland has them on speed dial.” Eddie sat beside her, sliding a box across the small table between them. “Meat. A lot of it.”
Lyssa’s mouth quirked, but she looked away at the city. “This has been a strange couple days.”
He stared at his hands. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Estefan.”
She sighed. “If you had . . . I would have run like hell. I wasn’t ready to hear that news. You were right.”
“Still,” he said. “It bothered me, keeping that from you.”
“I called his wife.” Lyssa glanced at him, and tears glittered in her eyes. “Josie was glad to hear from me, I think. But she didn’t know who killed her husband.”
“Did you tell her?”
“I told her . . . I took care of it. That it was a shape-shifter thing. And she believed me.” She rubbed her eyes “I don’t want to be a good liar about things like that.”
Eddie stared at the city, then the burning fire. Without quite realizing what he was doing, he found himself reaching out—sticking his hand into the flames.
He felt nothing. Just a tickle. Movement of air over his skin.