“And me, as well?” asked a soft voice from the door.
Eddie turned and found Nikola just outside, watching them. A blade in her hand. Gaze steady and cold.
“Darling,” said the Cruor Venator softly. “Of course, you.”
Nikola smiled, her feet making sticky sounds with each slow step. “And am I too late?”
“For the killing?” murmured the witch. “No, dear. Not too late for that.”
“Good,” Nikola said, and threw her dagger at the Cruor Venator. The blade sank hilt deep into her throat.
Eddie moved in almost the same instant, grabbing Lyssa around the waist and swinging her away from the witch. He didn’t have to worry, though. Nikola snarled, leaping across the blood-soaked floor to slam fists into the Cruor Venator’s chest.
“Tina,” Lyssa gasped.
Fire filled his hands, racing up his arms as she squirmed away from him, slipping and sliding across the slick floor to Jimmy’s mother. The woman was unbound. Lyssa grabbed her arms and began dragging her to the door. Eddie moved to help her, just as a cold wave of power slammed into him.
It was from the witches, who were engaged in an eerily silent contest of blood and wills. The Cruor Venator made not a sound as Nikola stabbed her, but he knew in his gut that no matter what damage they did. . she would survive.
And then this would begin again.
Without looking back, he went to Lyssa — picked up Tina in his arms — and they ran like hell from the nightmare.
Chapter Twenty
Another world, outside: a river breeze and starlight and the faintest hint of morning. No scent of blood. Lyssa shuddered when they ran from the house, full of her mother and the memory of that death-drenched room.
A scream had been building from that first taste of her mother’s blood — a scream caught in her throat, growing with each moment spent in Georgene’s presence. But now, away from her, that silent scream was becoming something else — and the moment Lyssa stepped onto the driveway, she fell to one knee, burning up. Her skin split open in seams of golden light. Bones cracked. Her heart thundered so hard she clutched her chest.
She was going to explode.
“Lyssa,” Eddie said urgently, but she shook her head and stumbled sideways, away from him. He stood too close, and Tina was in his arms. The poor woman would burn and die if Lyssa lost control.
A small, young voice rang out. Lyssa looked up, and saw Jimmy running down the driveway toward them.
“No,” she croaked, backing away. “Jesus.”
“Jimmy!” shouted Eddie. “Stay there!”
The boy did not stop. Lyssa turned, fleeing back inside the house, trying to put walls between herself and the boy. Fire erupted over her skin, burning through her clothing — rising in her throat, filling that buried scream with terrible power.
She heard a screech, far away — twisting into an inhuman note of agony. Nikola, dying. Blood-prints on the floor, stinking up her nose with death.
Lyssa detonated.
Fire slammed outward in a pulse so strong the walls exploded, and furniture splintered into toothpicks. The inferno enveloped the foyer and living room in a shimmering, unending blaze — turning the hardwood floors to crumbling ash.
She watched, unable to move. Staring, lost, feeling fire swarm through the house like a long tongue, licking the air with blistering, explosive heat. Down, down the stairs into the basement, sucking out the air. .
Hands grabbed her shoulders, dragging her backward. With that contact, a new fire rose in her blood, and she turned to find Eddie — staring into her eyes — surrounded in his own golden light.
Fire in his gaze, fire on his skin, fire burning all around him — consuming them, together. In that moment, a choking ache rose from her heart, a hunger for him that ran deeper than her need to breathe.
Somewhere distant, she heard more screams — filtered through the sizzling crackle of the burning house. Eddie’s mouth moved, but she couldn’t hear his voice. Just those twisted, strangled cries. None of them sounded like Georgene, but she couldn’t be sure.
Eddie dragged her through the blaze. The floor groaned beneath them, half-broken, burning. Stone slabs glowed.
Cool air blasted her face as they stumbled outside. Lyssa carried the fire with her, flames dancing over her naked skin. Not a stitch of clothing left, except for the stubborn remains of Eddie’s jacket.
Eddie also burned, but some of his clothes were still intact. Lyssa tried to beat out the flames. It was a losing battle. He tore off the remains of his sweatshirt.
Jimmy sat in the car, face pressed to the glass. Engine running, headlights blazing. Lyssa locked gazes with him, taking in his horror and shock, suffering the same emotions as the heat of the burning house rushed over her naked body.
“Come on,” Eddie said in a rough voice.
“I’ll frighten him,” she mumbled, trying to pull away.
His grip on her arm tightened. “No. He worships you.”
“He shouldn’t be here. What were you thinking?”
“I was thinking that it hurts more to be useless.” Eddie leaned in, his gaze terrible with concern. “I know how he feels.”
Jimmy shoved open the car door, half-tumbling out before stopping, staring.
“Shit,” he squeaked.
Lyssa tore her gaze from Eddie. “Watch your mouth. And get back in the car.”
He cringed. “You’re burning.”
Mustering all her strength, she focused on the fire flowing over her skin and took a deep breath, fighting to draw it down. Light sputtered, gasping in puffs and spurts — but after a long moment, the flames receded. The effort stole more strength than the explosion. Lyssa hunched over, barely able to stay upright. A chill punctured her bones.
Somehow, Eddie got her to the car and pushed her into the backseat. Lyssa blinked blearily at the flames engulfing the house, feeling very distant from the blaze.
An immense cracking sound filled the air.
The burning house tilted sideways: roof sinking, collapsing, as the entire structure slid down the hill, burning chunks of wreckage breaking apart to tumble toward the river. Immense, ridiculous, as though from some movie.
Except it was real. Her fault. She knew that. But nothing in her seemed to care. Instead, all she felt was a sense of deep satisfaction and rightness.
Her mother had once said that dragon fire was pure. Pure enough to kill a shadow.
Lyssa hoped that was true.
At the first gas station they found, Eddie asked Jimmy to get out and use the pay phone to make a collect call. His phone had burned, along with his wallet. He parked the stolen car on the outskirts of the lot. The sky was growing lighter. Lyssa hoped no one could see them from the road. She was naked. Eddie a little less so, but this wasn’t a beach in Hawaii.
Lyssa slouched in the back with her arms crossed over her breasts. Tina took up the rest of the seat. She was still unconscious and smelled like blood. The bitter scent made Lyssa sick, and she had the window rolled partially down. Even the nearby Dumpster smelled good in comparison.
Icky sat in the front seat, whining. Eddie scratched his ears. There was a line between his eyes that hadn’t been there when Lyssa first met him. She wondered how her own face had aged. She felt older by a hundred years — mostly on the inside, in her heart.
“I had my chance,” she murmured. “I looked Georgene in the face — and still wasn’t able to do what was required.”
“You act as though not killing was a bad thing,” Eddie said softly.