But when the bathroom door was closed behind her, and she gazed at her reflection in the mirror, all she saw was a shadow. The soot didn’t matter, or her dirty hair, or the scrape along her jaw.
Just her eyes. Haunted, red-rimmed with unshed tears. Pained and lonely.
“Pathetic,” she whispered. “Toughen up, kid. Be tough.”
Deep breath. Jaw set. She could do this. Ten years, she’d been doing this. Now was no different.
So why have you not run? whispered the dragon. Do not deceive yourself, sister.
Go back to sleep, thought Lyssa. I liked you better when you were just a feeling.
I have been asleep too long. You need me now. You need him.
I don’t even know him.
A pity you are too much of a coward to try.
Lyssa exhaled sharply and spun away from the mirror.
The bathroom was small, white, and very clean. A white basket had been placed on the edge of the tub. Inside were clothes: faded jeans and an ivory-colored cable-knit sweater that was oversized and soft. Socks, underwear. . and a scarf. A pair of gloves.
She stared at the gloves, then, carefully, shrugged off Eddie’s jacket. She hung it on the hook that was on the bathroom door, then stripped off her clothes and placed them in the small garbage bin beneath the sink.
The shower felt tremendous. She slouched beneath the pounding stream, watching hot water hit her right arm and trail in rivers down her crimson scales. Golden claws glittered.
She imagined them around Eddie’s throat, and still felt the power of that grip, as well as her inability to let go.
Power is dangerous, she remembered her mother saying. Power over life and death is the most dangerous thing of all.
Anyone could kill. But to turn that death into something more. . to take a life and twist it into the otherworldly. .
Made her sick.
“Nikola and Betty,” she murmured. New women. New servants. As terrified as Lyssa was of having come so close to them, she wished she could have seen their faces.
How did they find me?
Eddie had found her through Estefan.
Lyssa shut off the water and dried herself — shivering the entire time. Not from the cold but from possibilities.
She needed to call Estefan and make certain he was okay. The older shape-shifter had been exceedingly kind to her, once upon a desperate time. . and for years they had traded e-mails. Not about anything important. Just little stories about life, his family. He loved talking about his wife, who had started out as a waitress and now ran a little café with him in Florida.
That little bit of contact with another of her kind had saved her, in more ways than one. Just a few words, proving to her that someone. . someone in the world. . knew who she was. Her real name. Not Liz, but Lyssa.
Never mind that she hadn’t told Estefan everything. Just the fact that he’d known she was a shape-shifter, a dragon, was enough to make her feel anchored.
How much did I tell him in my e-mails? How much have I let slip over the years?
Favorite coffee shops. That was how Eddie had found her. The fact she loved Columbus Circle and Central Park, which explained why he had been there, as well. She had told Estefan about her volunteer work at various homeless shelters.
Had she mentioned Jimmy and his mother? Yes. But not their address. Not where he went to school, or where Tina worked.
She hadn’t told him she was living underground, but he could have probably guessed the general area of where she made a home, just from certain details about places she liked to go. On occasion, Lyssa had even mailed him gifts. Some of her paintings, or little trinkets that could only be found in New York. She’d gone to post offices on the other side of the city, but still. .
I got sloppy, she decided. And Estefan, with his graying black hair, grizzled, toothy smile — and good heart — had finally gotten tired of just sitting idly by, something she had always known would happen, eventually.
Maybe, deep down, she had wanted it to happen. Perhaps she had needed for him to take the step she couldn’t — and find her help.
Bullshit, thought Lyssa, angry with herself. Bull. Shit.
The Cruor Venator had found her. And the timing of that. . just when Estefan had contacted strangers to locate her in New York. . was not lost on her.
The witch had never come so close to finding her. Not to her knowledge. Then again, she’d had no idea that two of her servants had been following her. For how long? Had they seen her with Jimmy?
“Fuck,” she muttered. “I’m an idiot.”
An idiot who had a choice to make. Except it wasn’t much of a choice.
I can’t run anymore.
It was time to fight and die. Or fight and kill.
And if she killed. . if she did exactly what needed doing. . what would she become then?
You’ll hate being a coward more than you’ll hate being dead, her mother had once said. Fight your battles. Dig in your heels. What’s a little pain?
Pain leads to death, her father would have replied. Don’t give your daughter ideas.
And yet, he had stayed and fought. He had dug in his heels. For his wife. For his daughter.
“Be tough,” she told herself, staring into her eyes. “Do the right thing.”
The problem was how? How, without losing everything?
One step at a time. One step.
Lyssa exhaled slowly and flexed her right hand. Her golden claws gleamed, each tip razor-sharp.
One step. One cut. And once she started. .
She dressed quickly. Everything fit and felt good on her skin. The scarf was dark green and made of thick cashmere. She wrapped it around her throat, fussing with each fold until she was satisfied that it would hide her scales. Or reveal only enough to make someone think she had an elaborate tattoo.
The matching glove slid easily over her right hand. Carefully, she took Eddie’s charred jacket off the hook and slung the backpack over her shoulder.
She opened the bathroom door, listening.
It was quiet in the hall. On light feet, she made her way to the front entrance. Holding her breath, waiting for someone to stop her.
No one did. Until she opened the front door and stepped outside.
Eddie sat on the stoop. The tips of his hair were wet, the rest of him scrubbed clean. He was just as good-looking as she remembered — darkly handsome, lean — all man. He wore a black sweater that hugged his body and dark jeans that did the same.
He smiled. “Hey.”
Lyssa blinked at him. “You’re not coming with me.”
“Of course not.” He stood, slow and easy, and slung a backpack over his shoulder. “I’m going for a long walk.”
“How pleasant for you.”
“Very.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Maybe you could tell Lannes good-bye for me? Thank him?”
“I already did. He just left to go pick up his wife.”
Lyssa folded her arms over her chest and leaned against the rail. “Human, you said?”
“More or less.” Eddie glanced down, scuffing his boot against the stone step. “Where are you headed?”
“I need to find a phone.”
“You don’t want to use the one inside?”
“I think. . the least amount of attention I bring to you and your friends, the better. I don’t want my call traced back here. Same with your cell,” she said, as he began reaching into his pocket. “I’ll find something.”