Mercy Burns (Myth and Magic 2)

I swiped at my eyes, then muttered, “I think I need cake. Thick, gooey chocolate cake.”

“What, now? Why?” Damon said, confusion evident in his voice as he eased the car’s speed.

“Because chocolate cake is a perfect pick-me-up when life decides to deal you one of those nasty little surprises.” My voice broke a little, and I took a deep, shuddering breath before adding, “That’s my building on fire.”

He didn’t say anything for a moment, then shook his head. “It’s probably not a coincidence,” he said softly. “First the bar, and now your place. It would seem one of our kidnappers is something of an arsonist.”

“So you think it was one of the guards who set the bar on fire?” My gaze was dragged from the blaze as a police officer directed us down a side street. In some ways it was a relief. If I couldn’t see the flames, maybe I wouldn’t think about the destruction they’d wreaked on my life. Not until I lay down to sleep, anyway.

“The bartender was one of the men who questioned me when they had me locked up. I recognized his voice.”

“Well, that explains how I got snatched.” And proved my instincts had been right. Shame I hadn’t listened to them and got the hell out of there while I still could. “I was in that bar meeting Angus when I was drugged. He was the one who took me to that house.”

“Angus?”

“A sea dragon.” I hesitated. “I got a feeling he’s working for them unwillingly.”

“You do make the oddest judgments about people you’ve barely met, don’t you?”

“You learn to judge very quickly when it means avoiding another scar.”

He frowned. “That’s the second time you’ve said that. Why on earth would anyone want to scar you?”

“Because of what I am.” Because they could. “So you did go back to the bar last night?”

Damon’s sudden smile was something I felt rather than saw, but it was a cold thing that sent goose bumps across my skin.

“Yes.”

“How? I mean, you might have stolen heat, but you weren’t exactly a powerhouse of energy when you left me.”

“Perhaps not, but like the other two guards, the bartender kindly decided to loan me his heat.”

“And did he survive the encounter?”

“He was weak, but alive—and the bar intact—when I left.” Damon shrugged, a movement that was surprisingly eloquent. “I was hoping he’d lead me back to his master’s lair sometime over the next few days.”

“So you merely put the fear of God into him while firing up the furnaces?”

“More like the fear of death.” He met my gaze in the mirror again, a slight frown creasing his brow. “The only one who doesn’t seem to be afraid of me is you.”

“That’s because I have no sense.”

A smile twitched his lips again. I pulled my gaze away and tried to think sensible thoughts rather than what I’d really like to do to those lips. “The cops must have found you pretty quickly—which means those men could have, too.”

“I’m a little smarter than that.” The look he cast my way reminded me that I hadn’t been. “When I heard on the news that the cops were looking for a man fitting my description, I turned myself in. We talked, then they let me go.” He paused, and swung the car around another corner. “You don’t give up until you get your answers, do you?”

“It’s the reporter in me.”

“Or your naturally stubborn nature.”

“That, too.”

He swung onto another street. “With the bar torched, and the bartender dead, I had intended to keep an eye on my hotel and follow any watchers to their source. That plan got a little sidetracked.”

“Yeah, sorry about that.” Though I wasn’t. Not entirely. At least I’d gotten to talk to him again, even if he hadn’t provided any real information.

He turned right again, and my brother’s apartment came into sight.