Eddie nodded, looking away. “I’m sure you will.”
She studied him, wondering again how he had managed to stand up to the servants of the Cruor Venator. No one did that. No one had that much courage, or conviction.
You did. Your parents.
Her mouth softened. “If I ask you not to follow me. . will you listen?”
He gave her a gentle, sidelong, smile. “What do you think?”
I think you’re going to break my heart.
Chapter Eight
They walked. Eddie didn’t ask where they were going. Questions seemed to make her prickly. Just being with her now was a hard-won victory.
“You haven’t told me much about the people you work for,” she said, as they left Lannes’s block-long neighborhood and crossed over to Leroy Street. “They sound. . eclectic.”
“I suppose they’d have to be. Some of them aren’t human.”
She glanced at him. “How many?”
“When I was first discovered seven years ago, there were none. Since then, we’ve found quite a few. Or they’ve found us.”
“Found.”
“Dirk & Steele looks for people who need help. Regular people. And people like you and me. We investigate crimes no one else can solve.”
Lyssa frowned. “Dirk & Steele.”
“You’ve heard of us?”
She shook her head. “No. Probably not.”
“You don’t sound so sure.”
Lyssa gave him a dirty look, but that only made him smile — and suddenly she was smiling, too, just a little. “I’m incredibly sure.”
Eddie shoved his hands in his pockets and grinned. “Okay, then.”
He took a risk as they crossed another intersection and bumped her gently with his elbow. She shot him a look, but he kept his gaze locked straight ahead. Pretending he didn’t notice. That it was an accident.
Not every touch is a threat, he wanted to tell her. Not every person is out to get you.
A moment later, she bumped him, very lightly.
Eddie’s gaze jerked sideways, but she was looking down at his jacket draped over her arm. With a surprising amount of reluctance, she held it out to him.
“Keep it,” he told her. “I don’t feel the cold.”
“Neither do I.”
They stared at each other a moment.
“When,” began Lyssa, and hesitated. “When did you know? About. . the fire?”
When I killed a man.
Eddie looked away. “There was an accident.”
It was an accident that I killed the wrong man.
Matthew Swint’s face swam into his memories, but he pushed it away as hard as he could.
“You?” he asked, inwardly wincing at how sharp his voice sounded.
“I was ten,” she said, with particular softness. Eddie finally met her gaze and found her looking at him with knowing, gentle, eyes. His breath hitched in his throat, caught behind a hard, aching knot.
“I got angry,” she continued. “I was a clumsy kid and tripped down a couple stairs. I set the whole thing on fire as payback.”
“Really.”
“I had a temper. My parents were not amused.”
He smiled to himself and looked down at his feet. “You could talk to them, though. They weren’t. .”
“No,” she finished for him. “They weren’t frightened. What about. .”
“My mother,” he said. “No, she doesn’t. . know. I don’t think she could handle it.”
“Is she your only family?”
“I have a grandmother. I had a sister. But she’s not. .” Eddie couldn’t say the words. He never spoke of Daphne.
“It’s okay,” said Lyssa.
He chanced another glance, but she was looking down at his jacket again. Her gaze lost, thoughtful.
“You could throw that out,” he said.
She smoothed her gloved hand down the charred leather. “No. That would be a waste. You really don’t want it?”
Eddie shook his head, and she gave him a shy, hesitant smile that made his heart stop.
And then he stopped breathing altogether when she slid his jacket on.
It should have meant nothing. She had worn his coat earlier. He’d had girlfriends who slipped on his shirts. Cute and fun.
But seeing Lyssa wear his clothing. . even just his coat. . now, out in broad daylight with the hint of a smile in her eyes. .
He couldn’t think of a word for it. “Sexy” wasn’t good enough. A parade of naked women could have been marching up the street, and it would have meant nothing compared to seeing this woman lost in his jacket. The sight hit him with breathtaking force — making him suffer some primal, guttural, ache that he hadn’t realized he was capable of feeling.
Not like this.
Her hair was still damp, tangled around those intelligent, golden eyes. Everything in her face was smart and alive — and tempered with the vulnerability that had haunted him from the first moment he had seen her in Columbus Circle.
“Thank you,” she said.
He blinked at her, unsteady. “It looks better on you.”
Lyssa’s cheeks turned pink. Eddie wondered when she’d last been given a compliment. Not that he was much better. He suddenly felt awkward and shy — like he was eleven years old with Suzie Mitchell on the school field trip, helping her catch insects while hoping, maybe, if nothing else, she’d say, I like you.
It’s better if she doesn’t like you. It’s better if you don’t like her. Keep your distance.
Words that Lannes had spoken, right before leaving to pick up Lethe.
She’s dangerous, said the gargoyle. Maybe you can’t feel it, but I can. There’s something inside her that isn’t right.
In what way?
I don’t know. I’m not wrong, though. If my brothers were here, they would tell you the same thing. But not as nicely.
So, what? I turn her loose? I don’t help her?
Does she even need your help? Lannes had been so grim. Let me put it another way, Eddie. I only get this itchy feeling around witches. Lyssa Andreanos is not just a shape-shifter.
She’s something else, Eddie told himself, watching Lyssa check her scarf and adjust it around her throat. Her movements were quick, delicate. An old habit, he thought. Always hiding. Even inside his jacket. She wanted to get lost in things, he thought. Like armor.
Lannes might not trust her, but Eddie’s life depended on reading people. Instincts mattered. Small gestures. This woman was hiding something, that much was clear. Was she a danger to be around? Probably.
But did any of that make her a bad person?
She’s no Matthew Swint.
Matthew Swint, who was free. Matthew Swint, who was free and knew that Eddie had killed his brother.
He exhaled and rubbed his forehead. “Why are the Cruor Venator hunting you? There must be other people in the world who would be just as attractive.”
She shot him a look he’d seen in the mirror a time or two: afraid, angry, and desperate. But just as quickly as it appeared, the mask fell down, and all that raw emotion vanished — replaced by cold wariness.
“You should be more concerned about how they found me. I’m worried they might have gotten to Estefan.”
Eddie looked away, chilled. Her friend had been murdered. A fact that had been burning a hole in his heart since first invoking the shape-shifter’s name. He had wanted to tell her the truth from the beginning, but their few moments together hadn’t seemed right.