Mercy Burns (Myth and Magic 2)

His lips twitched, hinting at a smile, and for the second time that night, my breath hitched in reaction. I had an odd feeling this man didn’t smile a whole lot, and that was probably a good thing if my reaction to the merest hint of one was anything to go by.

And that reaction was troubling. The last thing I needed was an attraction to a dangerous man—not when such an attraction had gone wrong so often in the past.

“You’ve upheld your end of the bargain. Time for me to uphold mine.” He flexed his arms and his smile faded, his lips becoming as cold and harsh as his expression. “Wait here.”

He didn’t give me time to answer. He simply turned and melted into the darkness—a shadow that made no sound as he flowed upward and disappeared.

I grabbed the door and swung it closed again, just in case one of the men walked past the stairs. I trusted Damon to do his job, but even Death couldn’t be in two places at once. It’d be just my luck that I’d get discovered on the verge of escape.

I pressed back against the wall, hoping the shadows were deep enough to cover my presence. And then I realized that was totally stupid. I mean, the guards were dragons. They’d sense me down here in the shadows regardless. I was better off hoping that I regained fire strength quickly so that I’d at least have something to protect myself with.

A clock ticked loudly into the silence and, as the minutes stretched, I wondered what was going on upstairs. I wondered if Damon was taking care of the men or simply getting the hell out. Maybe I was doing him an injustice by thinking that, but there’d been so many other dragons over the years who—in one way or another—had let me down.

I’m not sure how long I stood there before the awareness that something was wrong began to steal through my soul. I pressed back harder against the brick wall, the chill of it seeping into my spine, making me feel colder than I’d ever thought possible.

I stared at the stairs, hating the fact that I didn’t know what was happening up there. I took one step upward then stopped. I’d been told to wait here and it made sense to do so—especially given my fires were still little more than embers.

But if things had gone wrong—if Damon had been too weak to take care of both men—then staying here meant I’d be caught, too. And given I’d basically rendered the lock useless, who knew what they’d do to keep us still and quiet until tomorrow night?

I bit my lip, then slowly climbed the stairs, my heart racing so hard it felt like it was going to tear out of my chest as I strained to hear the slightest sound.

But nothing and no one else seemed to be moving.

Besides the clock, the house was deathly quiet. I reached the top step and paused. My dragon senses still weren’t providing much in the way of information, which was damn frustrating because I really could have done with a little extra help.

But then, that was practically the story of my life. Things never went the way I wanted or expected them to.

Like Rainey. I pushed away the flare of pain and tried to concentrate on the here and now.

I peered carefully around the corner. Darkness lay to my right, but to the left, muted light filtered through huge ceiling-to-floor windows, highlighting the dust on the wooden floors and giving the cobwebs hanging from the cornices a silvery edge. Obviously, Albert and Jay weren’t all that into housekeeping.

I looked at the darker end of the corridor. No windows, no filtered light. Nothing to indicate anyone or anything might be nearby.

It was the perfect place to hide.

Whether someone was, I couldn’t say. My radar for that sort of information was still off-line. Which meant, unfortunately, there was only one way I was going to find out.

I slipped off my shoes, holding them in one hand while I felt along the wall with the other. Normally, dragons—and draman—could see pretty well in the darkness, but with my energy levels so low, it seemed “human” sight was all I was going to get.

My fingers hit a door frame and I hesitated. The clock’s ticking suddenly seemed louder, and it was coming from beyond this doorway. I peered around cautiously. Floral patterned drapes framed the deep-set windows opposite, beyond which glowed the sullen, muted fire of an outside light. Little else was visible through the glass. The fog was too thick.

I scanned the small room, noting the plush chairs and mahogany furniture, the bookcases lined with books. This was someone’s home rather than just a place being used as a prison.

I moved past the doorway and continued on. The ticking began to recede and the silence seemed to grow thicker. Another doorway—this time the entrance to a dining room that held a table longer than my entire kitchen. After checking it was empty, I moved on.

The hallway hooked left and led into the kitchen. On the floor lay a lanky, dark man, the remains of a cup in his left hand and a pool of dark liquid gradually spreading out across the tiled floor. Ten feet beyond him lay Damon.

I swore under my breath and ran over, squatting down beside him and quickly touching his neck for a pulse. It was there, but felt too quick, as if his heart was straining. His skin was cool and edging toward clammy again, meaning the heat I’d loaned him hadn’t been enough to keep him going. This wasn’t surprising considering he’d been locked up for thirteen days, and that he had stopped me before I’d really had a chance to fuel him properly.

I lightly pinched his cheek, trying to get a response. He made a sound low down in his throat—a soft growl that echoed across the silence—but otherwise didn’t move. But we couldn’t stay here. Even if Damon had managed to take care of the second guard before he’d collapsed, there was no saying that Angus or someone else wasn’t near.

I leaned down close. “Damon, we need to get out of here.”

He didn’t respond. I pinched his cheek again, harder this time, and he jerked away from my touch. His eyes flew open but his dark gaze was unfocused and his pupils large.

Behind us, something buzzed, and my heart jumped into my throat. I swung around, and saw the transmitter on the bench.

“Jay, where the hell are you? You were supposed to relieve me five minutes ago.”