Lyssa took off her backpack and slipped under the rope. Eddie paused. “Anything I should know?”
“Don’t pet the rats,” she said. “Come on. I do this all the time.”
Eddie frowned but followed her into the tunnel. Several feet in, she stopped and crouched.
“The tunnel keeps going into the next building’s basement,” she whispered. “But it got walled off a couple years ago. Management keeps threatening to do the same with this one.”
Her right hand scrabbled at an ancient manhole cover set in the stone floor. Eddie said, “Let me help you.”
“I got it,” muttered Lyssa, as her clawed fingers slipped through the tiny holes. Grunting, she hauled backward and lifted out the thick metal disc.
Eddie stared. Lyssa blinked at him. “What?”
“Remind me never to arm wrestle you.”
Her mouth twitched. “Get in. There’s a ladder.”
“You sure this isn’t a dirty trick?”
“Well, it’ll be dirty.”
He smiled and lowered himself into the hole. Lyssa followed, clinging to the ladder to pull the manhole cover back into place — plunging Eddie into blinding darkness. It wasn’t the same as being in a dark room. This was a sightlessness that carried its own oppressive weight: claustrophobic and immense.
Dizzy, he swayed into a set of warm hands.
“Sorry,” he said, hoarse. “I’m blind down here.”
“I won’t let you get hurt,” she said.
Words that made an unwanted memory surface.
She’s part demon. And there’s something else. I knew it the moment I saw her taste that blood.
Eddie didn’t want to think about what Lannes had said. He fumbled until he found Lyssa’s arm, then her shoulder. It was her right arm. Right shoulder. He forgot that until she flinched.
“Er,” she muttered. “I’m twitchy.”
Eddie didn’t want her to feel embarrassed. “For years I didn’t like to be touched.”
“You didn’t like it. . or you were afraid of it?”
“I was afraid. For a variety of reasons.”
Lyssa pressed her hand against his chest. He shied away from the unexpectedness of contact — and the heat that exploded from it, inside him.
Eddie caught his breath. “I guess I’m. . twitchy, too.”
“Does it ever go away?”
“I don’t know.”
“Tell me if it does.” The wistfulness in her voice made his heart ache, and so did her hand, capturing his. “Come on. You’ll have to walk sideways for a while. It’s going to get narrow.”
“You never answered my question. Where are we going?”
“Down. This city is full of tunnels. Most are old and not on any map. Dug by hand in the early part of the twentieth century, used to run guns and liquor — sometimes men and women who wanted to keep their comings and goings private. Urban legend.”
“Fairy tales. A dragon in the middle of them.”
She laughed, and the sound sent a frisson of heat through his body. “When I was little, I used to pretend I was a princess. Never the dragon.”
“Why not?”
“I didn’t realize shape-shifting wasn’t normal. Being a princess, though. . that was magic.”
Eddie had believed in magic, as a boy. And then he’d stopped.
The walls were uneven, sometimes jagged and sharp when he touched them. Cut from rock, hacked away, sloping downward at a steep angle. Eddie had to watch his breathing as he walked — not because he was out of shape but because it was too easy to feel buried alive.
He lost track of time. Lyssa never let go of his hand. Once, she pressed down on his head. “Watch yourself.”
“I could light a fire to see with.”
“Trust me,” she replied.
Do I trust you? Eddie wondered, feeling her body tight against his side, guiding him. What do I risk by trusting you?
Because with Lyssa, it wasn’t like trusting one of the guys. It wasn’t the same as trusting Serena to watch his back, or Roland not to stab it. It felt deeper than that, more raw. As though he was asking whether or not he trusted himself.
And he didn’t trust himself.
Eddie heard water dripping, and the squeak of rats. “How did you find this place?”
“I was desperate. There’s nothing here that burns. I can’t. .” Lyssa paused, and he sensed her weighing words. “I can’t sleep. . in a normal place. I have nightmares, and when I dream. .”
“Fire,” he said. “I have a room for that.”
“Really?”
“Why are you surprised?”
“You seem to have your act together.”
“No.” He thought about his cage in the penthouse. He hated it. But it was heaven compared to this. “My emotions get the better of me, as you’ve seen. Sometimes. . I think it would be easier not to feel anything at all.”
“Don’t say that.”
“Why not?”
“Because there are already too many cowards in the world. Myself included.”
Eddie didn’t know anyone else who could affect him the way she did, just with words. She was right. Not feeling anything was the easy way out. Safe. How many years had he been running from himself?
“You’re no coward,” he told her. “Just the opposite.”
“You have no idea,” she replied. “Careful. There’s a big hole on your right.”
“I’m serious.”
“Step sideways.”
He stopped walking altogether. “Ten years on your own, surviving. I know what that means, Lyssa. I know the cost.”
“Eddie.”
“I know what it’s like to have no one. To spend nights sitting up, hiding in boxes with a piece of glass in your hand because you’re afraid someone will sneak up and kill you, or worse. I know hunger, Lyssa. I know every hunger imaginable. I know what it’s like, trying to stay alive without becoming the predator.”
She broke away, leaving him dizzy and alone in the darkness.
“Lyssa,” he called out, before he could stop himself. “I tried to kill myself once.”
He was horrified to hear those words come from his mouth — horrified and stunned — and then, just humiliated.
But even in that absolute darkness, he felt the heat of her stare — so he cleared his throat, and said in a hoarse voice, “Some things are too hard to live with. I didn’t want to hurt anyone. . ever again. And I was sick of hiding, of being alone. There was no one to go to. No one I trusted well enough to ask for help.”
He was rubbing his hands, their scars, and stopped himself with a deep breath. “I got better. What I am. . what I did. . I can live with now. I can say it out loud. I don’t have to hide all the time.”
Which was a lie. He was still hiding. No one knew the truth of what he’d done, all those years ago. What he hadn’t done. This was as close to it as he’d ever come to speaking the words. . and her silence killed him.
His beating heart was louder than the world. For the first time, he saw a glint of golden light in the darkness: two faint sparks, in the shape of eyes.
“I never tried to kill myself,” Lyssa said finally, in a soft voice. “But I thought about it sometimes. It frightens me, how close I came.”
Her words hit him hard, again. Old wounds suddenly felt fresh, and sharp. Eddie couldn’t push down the loneliness, the grief, fast enough. He folded his arms over his chest, bracing himself, holding himself up, keeping his head down — because even in the darkness, he was afraid of what she might see in his eyes.
“Like I said,” he whispered, “you’re no coward.”
“I am. In every way that matters.” Her voice broke. “You don’t know how easy it would have been for me to leave you and your friends today.”