Mercy Burns (Myth and Magic 2)
When the sun hit my face, I slowed, my breathing ragged more from fear than the short run. I was so tempted to look behind me, but that would warn him that I was on to to him. Although, if he’d witnessed my mad dash through the tunnel, he’d probably have guessed anyway.
I passed two doorways and walked under the fire escape. I had no sense of Damon, but he’d had more than enough time to find these exits. For a moment I wondered if he’d simply taken the netbook and left, but something inside me said no. He wanted to stop the people wiping out the draman towns as much as I did, and I was currently his quickest way of doing that.
I flexed my fingers and tried to relax as I came to another cross street. I paused, looking right and left, not really wanting to continue down this lonely-looking street. Not until I knew for sure whether my pursuer was following. I bit my lip then crossed to the sidewalk on the other side of Minna Street. In the process, I casually glanced sideways. The street was empty. The guard hadn’t followed me.
Relief washed over me, leaving me shaking. I took a deep breath and released it slowly, then continued down Minna Street as I’d been instructed.
I wasn’t alone for long. A familiar warmth crept over my skin, chasing the chill from my flesh as quickly as an inner fire. I smiled slightly as Damon fell into step beside me, and felt any remaining tension slide away. He might be just as dangerous as the men who were hunting us, but he made me feel a whole lot safer.
“He’s not following,” he said, stating the obvious as he glanced sideways at me. “I’ll accept your apology for saying the disguise wouldn’t work.”
I smiled. “I don’t think it’s fair to penalize me for not remembering men can be sidetracked by a small pair of breasts and a whole lot of leg.”
“An apology is not a penalty. And the breasts may be small, but the legs are magnificent.”
The compliment had heat flushing my cheeks. God, anyone would think I was a giddy virgin—and that hadn’t been the case for more years than I cared to remember. “Well, I’m glad I have one good feature.”
His gaze met mine, the dark depths serious despite his faint smile. “You have lots of good features. Unfortunately, your stubborn refusal to see good sense isn’t one of them.”
My smile faded. So much for the compliment. “You were going to murder him, Damon. I can’t be a part of that.”
“And do you think they’ll show any such restraint if they catch you again?”
Fear rose like a ghost—half-formed, insubstantial, but mind-numbing nonetheless. “I realize that.” My voice was sharp with the panic threatening to bubble over. “But if I somehow manage to survive all this, I then have to live with my actions. And I won’t take someone’s life just because it’s expedient. Life of any kind deserves more respect than that.”
At least until I knew for sure who was responsible for Rainey’s death. Then I wouldn’t restrain him.
And I wouldn’t restrain myself.
Deep down, though, I wondered if I was really ready to claim the revenge Rainey needed.
“Expedience is taking care of problems before they take care of you,” he snapped, then raked a hand through his hair. “This is a mistake, trust me on that.”
“So you’ve said.” Repeatedly. “And if I pay the price, then so be it. You’ve got the netbook?”
“Yes.” He pulled the little computer out from under his coat and handed it to me. “What sort of code is it?”
I shrugged as I shoved it into my bag. “Just one we made up when we were kids. It was safer sending notes no one else could read—there was less likelihood of offending someone and getting punished.”
He gave me a look that bordered on disbelief. “Why on earth would someone want to punish a couple of kids for sending each other notes?”
“Because it was outside guidelines.” I hesitated, then reluctantly added, “Draman never got the same sort of consideration as full-blooded dragons.”
“Ah,” he said, in a voice that suddenly seemed cooler. “I understand.”
His reaction had disappointment swirling, but with it came a lifetime of annoyance.
“How can you possibly understand? You’re a full-blood, and a dragon of rank and privilege besides. You could never, ever understand just how it is for those of us who sit in two worlds, but are never really considered a true part of either. You use us, abuse us—but heaven forbid you ever think us worthy of any sort of consideration.”
He looked a little startled, and I wasn’t sure whether it was my words or the anger so evident in my voice. “I have to admit, I’ve never really thought much about the draman’s lot in life,” he said.
I snorted softly. “Few full-bloods do.”
He slanted me a sideways glance. “We don’t have draman in our clique. We never have had.”
“Meaning your clique refuses to sully dragon blood with the human taint?” God, how often had I heard such a phrase from the bastard who ruled our clique? Which was ironic when he was one of the biggest transgressors. Half his get—my brother included—were draman.
“Meaning my clique is mostly where the muerte come from,” he said softly. “It’s hard to create potential problems yourself when you are constantly cleaning them up.”