“I know.” Eddie looked at Lyssa again, who was still unconscious — or seemed to be. Would she leave with him? He very seriously doubted it.
Lannes followed his gaze. “Does she need a doctor?”
“I don’t think so. It wouldn’t be safe, anyway.”
“Her arm,” he replied thoughtfully. “It looks as though she’s caught in a bad shift. I’ve never seen it so extreme.”
“There’s a shifter who was found in a Consortium facility in the Congo. He’s part eagle, still. It was forced on him, by scientists.”
Lannes let out a weary sigh. “Lethe called. She said something’s up with her family. They won’t tell her what, but they’re talking about leaving the city for a while. They’re insisting she go with them. For her safety.”
“She won’t, will she?”
He hesitated. “I’m thinking of telling her to go.”
“She won’t like that.”
“And she probably won’t listen.” A faint, worried, smile touched his mouth, but it faded almost as soon as it appeared. “She thinks they know the Cruor Venator are here.”
Nikola and Betty, thought Eddie, with anger. They had made him feel like he was thirteen years old again, terrified and abused. That was one crime he could not forgive.
Both men shared a long look. Lannes said, “You were lucky to get away from those women. Very lucky.”
“Maybe you should go. Take Lethe back to Maine.”
“Run for the hills? Not yet.”
Not yet, but maybe.
It took them twenty minutes to reach Greenwich Village, where Lannes and Lethe had a home. It wasn’t just their home, but a brownstone that belonged to the gargoyle’s entire family. Eddie didn’t know how often it was used, but he’d heard from one of the brothers that it had been passed off to all of them for about seventy years. Gargoyles were long-lived.
West of Seventh Avenue, Leroy Street bent and became St. Luke’s Place. Quiet, upscale. Row houses lined the block, brick and brownstone, with arched entries and other elegant details. The trees were old and shedding their leaves. Expensive cars were parked along the street.
He felt out of place. Like a thief.
Lannes found a parking spot about a hundred feet from their brownstone. Eddie said, “People are going to see.”
“Let me carry her. I can spread my illusion.”
Eddie would have preferred to hold her, but he couldn’t say that. He could barely admit it to himself.
No traffic on the street. Just an old woman walking a dog half a block away. He didn’t see anyone watching from the windows, but that didn’t mean much. He felt as though a target were painted on his back as he opened the SUV’s back door. Lannes loomed over him and bent to pull out Lyssa.
He froze, though — and made a sharp, surprised, sound.
“What?” asked Eddie, concerned.
“I. .” Lannes stopped, leaning back with a frown. “Nothing. When I touched her. .”
He paused again. Eddie said, “Spit it out. Is there something wrong?”
“I don’t know.” Lannes pulled Lyssa into his arms. She made a small sound, but when her head lolled, her eyes stayed closed. Eddie didn’t think she was faking it. Whatever had happened in that explosion had drained her completely.
Her, and not her dragon, he reminded himself, as his jacket slipped off her body. He tucked it again more carefully around her — heart in his throat when he looked at her face. Heart in his hands when he touched her, as gently as he could.
When he looked up, Lannes was watching him with peculiar intensity. It embarrassed Eddie, but he met his gaze and did not flinch.
“You like her,” Lannes said.
Eddie set his jaw. “I can see her. Your illusion isn’t working.”
“Sure it is. It just isn’t working on you.” He started walking down the street. Eddie frowned at him but grabbed Lyssa’s backpack and shut the car door. When he caught up with them, Lannes said, “It’s strange, actually. Even I can’t see her. It looks to me like I’m holding air.”
Eddie glanced around to see if anyone was watching. “Are you sure you didn’t do it wrong?”
“It’s about willing an action,” Lannes said dryly. “I don’t have a magic wand, or a special incantation. And no, I didn’t make a mistake. For some reason, you can see her.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
Lannes glanced down. Maybe he really couldn’t see Lyssa, but Eddie thought that he was looking at something. And not anything that made him happy.
“No,” he finally replied, in a particularly grim voice. “None of this makes sense.”
Eddie moved in so close he brushed against the gargoyle’s wings. Lannes gave him a hard look and moved away. Eddie crowded him again, refusing to back down. Concern warred with irritation. “What aren’t you saying? What did you feel when you touched her?”
“Let’s get inside first,” Lannes muttered, as they reached the front steps of a brownstone decorated with carved pumpkins, goofy witch dolls, and stone gargoyles with bunny ears glued to their heads.
“Wow,” Eddie said.
“Shut up,” said Lannes.
It was quiet inside. No one else home. In front of the door, a set of stairs led up to a second floor — and on either side of the entry were two massive rooms, spacious and furnished with overly large, well-worn blocks of furniture that looked big enough to hold several gargoyles, and maybe a baby elephant, or two. Threadbare rugs covered the hardwood floors, and large black-and-white photographs of mountains and rivers covered the white walls. A long hall led to the back. Eddie smelled cinnamon buns.
Lannes paused. “Here, take her.”
Eddie did, cradling Lyssa as gently as he could. She felt light, lighter than she should have, as though her bones were hollow, or she was made of air.
The gargoyle let out an unsteady breath once Lyssa was out of his arms. Eddie said, “What?”
“I don’t know if I should have brought her here,” he said, then stood there, looking stunned — as if he couldn’t believe he had just said that.
Eddie couldn’t believe it either. “What do you mean?”
His expression turned uncertain. “She makes my skin crawl.”
“I. .” Eddie began, and stopped. “If you want us to leave—”
“No.” Lannes stepped back and pointed up the stairs. “First door on your right. But, if you don’t mind—”
“I’ll keep an eye on her,” he said, a little more sharply than he intended. Irritated at himself — and Lannes — he began carrying Lyssa upstairs.
“Eddie,” called out the gargoyle, behind him. “Just because she’s a shape-shifter. .”
He didn’t finish. He didn’t need to.
Just because she’s a shape-shifter, doesn’t mean you should trust her.
Eddie continued climbing the stairs, holding her even closer — soft and warm against his chest. Her scent washed over him: indefinably sweet, with a hint of smoke, and vanilla.
Trust. What did trust mean, anyway? There were so many ways to lose trust before it even had a chance to form.
Give her a chance.
Give her the same chance you wish she would give you.
After all, it was only a matter of life or death.
The first room on the right held a bed, a standing wardrobe, and a small desk. One narrow window overlooked the front street.
Lyssa stirred in his arms, her eyes fluttering open. Just a little, then wider. Alert. He froze, staring down at her — and she went still, as well. Both of them, like caught animals.
“Hi,” Eddie said, awkwardly.