“He’s evil,” Georgie said softly.
“Yes, he is.”
“Is he really going to eat me?”
Declan looked like he hurt himself. “He’ll try. He won’t succeed. I’ll stop him.”
Georgie hugged himself. “Why would he want to eat anybody?”
“He’s ill,” Declan said. “He wanted power, and now he has it, and it’s twisting him.”
“Is he going to kill Rose?”
“I promise you I’ll take care of Rose,” Declan said. “Nothing will happen to her or you, as long as I’m around. Rose doesn’t trust me, and she and I will have to settle this between ourselves. But you and your brother mustn’t fear me. If you’re in danger, find me and I’ll help. You don’t have to handle it on your own. I’ll protect you. Do you understand?”
Georgie nodded. He understood, and he felt deep down that Declan meant it. Still, Declan wasn’t to be trusted.
“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell your sister about this. No need to worry her.”
Georgie nodded to keep him happy. Declan got up and headed down the road, back in the direction from which he had come. In a few breaths he disappeared behind the bend. A moment later Rose burst out the door, Jack behind her.
Georgie jumped to his feet. “I have to tell you something.”
“Not right now!”
“But Rose!”
“Not right now, Georgie. It can wait until I get back. Come on.”
Rose and Jack took off down the road, and Georgie had no choice but to follow.
NINE
ROSE waited inside Burger King. It was twenty past eleven, and the lunch crowd had yet to gather. She’d made it just in time—two minutes after she’d walked through the door, the Clean-n-Bright van, carrying Latoya, Teresa, and a couple of other women, rolled into the parking lot. They sat down to eat, and she sat down to think.
Rose shifted, trying to get comfortable in the concrete-hard chair. She had no appetite. Visions of terrifying bruise purple creatures kept flittering across her mind. She’d left the boys with Grandma, and Éléonore was no lightweight. Still, the anxiety ate at Rose. She regretted coming to work, but Emerson left her without a choice. She couldn’t afford to have her check shredded.
Latoya swept by, carrying her tray. She was tall and looked taller, her body sharp and narrow-boned, all angles and long limbs. Her hair was thick and lustrous, falling down in curvy waves she’d bleached to platinum blond. The blond had worn off, and Latoya’s waves had gained a slightly greenish tint. People called her Mophead, although never to her face. You messed with Latoya at your own peril.
“You want some food?”
“No.” In a rush Rose had forgotten to make a lunch, and she had no money.
“Girl, you’ve got to eat!”
Rose shook her head. “I’m not hungry. Really.”
Latoya turned to the counter, where tiny Juniper Kozlowski manned the register in her manager’s uniform. “She won’t eat, June.”
Juniper bristled. “You come to my place, you have to eat, Rose.”
“Thanks, I’m not hungry.”
Latoya grimaced. “At least come sit with us.”
“If I sit with you, you’ll try to feed me.” Rose smiled.
“Well, you have to eat!” Latoya grunted. “Look, don’t worry about Emerson. He’s an ass, but you’re one of his best cleaners.”
“I’m not worried,” Rose lied. “Thank you for picking me up.”
Latoya shook her head and sat at the bigger table to the left, with the rest of the Clean-n-Bright crew.
Rose looked out the window. She wasn’t in the habit of feeling sorry for herself, but she had to admit that lately life just kept kicking her. First, the blueblood, then the hounds, and now, once her shift ended and she went back, she would have to fight Emerson for the money she had earned.
Of all these concerns, the blueblood and the beasts were most dire. The creatures did resemble hounds, lean demonic dogs from some awful nightmare. And they wanted magic. Their power fed on it. Was there some sort of purpose to their attacks? If they assaulted people at random, drawn to magic, then the four of them, the boys, Grandma, and she, would be their prime targets. The Draytons were among the most magical of the Edge families. Nothing that a blueblood like Declan would be impressed with, she was sure, but by Edger standards, they stood out. How would she protect the boys?
Rose felt a spike of panic and squished it down. First things first. She’d take the carcass of the dead hound to Grandma once her shift was over. Then they would go from there.
And then there was Declan. She had no clue how she would challenge him. What couldn’t he do? What did the fairy-tale girls do in this situation? She strained, trying to remember. Most of the stories involved sorting rice from wheat and weaving gold cloth from straw. She wasn’t sure if he could weave gold from straw but she wouldn’t be surprised if he managed it somehow. No, it had to be something else. Something she knew for sure would work. Some challenge with a trick to it.
Declan’s face surfaced in her memory. What an arrogant ass. She glanced at her uniform. So what if it was an ugly sack of unnatural color?
He’d said she was beautiful.
A man did tell her she was beautiful, wonderful, kind, and smart before. He even told her that he loved her and offered her a safe haven for the boys. And she believed him, right until the point she found out he planned to sell her off.
Declan was an enemy. A very odd kind of enemy, who saved small kids from monsters, tore roofs off houses with his flash explosions, and concerned himself with her safety. She had to keep reminding herself that he was the enemy, because the impact his presence had on her was staggering. It must be his size. Or maybe his sword. Or the unbelievable power of his flash. Or maybe all of the above . . .
Or the fact that he was incredibly handsome, and she had to keep iron control of herself to stop thinking about him. As far as she knew, he couldn’t read her mind, but getting rid of him would prove much harder if he knew what went through her head this morning while he waved his sword around. She had to be adult about this: yes, he was hot and she was vulnerable. She got it out of her system this morning, and that would be the end of that.
His flash was something else. Most people tried to flash by holding their hand as a weapon and pushing the magic out of it. Unconsciously, they shaped the flash with subtle pressure into a form similar to their arm—a long ribbon—and it never occurred to them that it could take any other shape. But he’d managed a perfect half sphere. Rose still practiced with her flash every day if she could help it. It had become second nature to her, and she caught herself doing it without thinking, the way some people tapped their foot or fidgeted. But she’d never tried a half sphere before.
She’d figured out how Declan had done it a moment before he’d let it loose: he’d held the magic inside him, ratcheting the pressure higher and higher, and then dropped his guard on the front of his body completely and let it rip. The flash simply burst out of him, sweeping everything on its way. It was beautiful.
Rose had done it twice on her way to the boundary. Hers was much smaller in magnitude, a mere whisper compared to his roar, because she still had to walk and work afterward. But she knew she could do it, and when she poured enough power into it, her flash wave would be devastating.
Oh, she couldn’t wait to show him. That would knock some of that blueblood haughtiness down a peg. She just needed a good opportunity.
He couldn’t find lodging in the Edge. That was too funny. When did he learn to make pancakes? Maybe it was part of their blueblood tutoring: eight o’clock—swordplay, nine o’clock—archery, ten o’clock—pancake making . . .
Latoya said something from her table.
“Huh?”
“I said, what’s his name?”
Rose frowned. “Whose name?”
“The guy you’re mooning over.”
“I’m not mooning!”
Latoya glanced at Teresa. The older woman nodded. “Mooning. Definitely.”