The EMT grunted and helped his partner, a young woman, grab a stretcher from the back of the ambulance. More sirens filled the air. The police would be next.
Lyssa and Eddie looked at each other and started walking.
“You mentioned that other homeless women have been disappearing,” Eddie said, as a police cruiser sped past them, lights blazing. “For how long?”
It took Lyssa a moment to find her voice. “Couple weeks. I only found out today. I didn’t even know Mandy was gone. Like I said, we’re not close.”
“Then they weren’t targeted because of you.”
Lyssa touched her scarf, pained. “How do you know?”
“You weren’t aware they were missing until today.” Eddie glanced at her, his eyes dark and serious. “What’s the point of a message if the intended recipient isn’t even aware there’s one in the first place?”
He had a point, but it didn’t make her feel any better. “Finding Mandy in that park was not a coincidence.”
“So they carry an injured women with them all the time, just waiting for the right moment to spring her on you?”
Lyssa blew out her breath, frustrated. “I don’t know.”
“They must have a van,” he muttered to himself. “Especially if they’re kidnapping women off the street.”
“That part doesn’t make sense,” she admitted. “Mandy is a heroin addict. Not the kind of person the Cruor Venator would kill.”
“She only goes for doctors and lawyers?” A hint of sarcasm touched his voice.
Lyssa shrugged and nodded. “Something along those lines, yes. And kidnapping? Not her style, either. She likes to play games and pretend she’s dignified. She’ll lure the victim — or stalk, attack, and murder on-site. But throwing girls into a van. . is beneath her ego.”
Eddie stared. Lyssa’s cheeks warmed. She had said too much, again. And the way he looked at her. .
She couldn’t hide from his eyes. First in her dreams, and now here in broad daylight. If running from the Cruor Venator had been difficult all these years. . running from this man’s gaze would be impossible.
No doubt, too, he was going to ask, again, why she knew so many details about a race of witches that hardly existed anymore. What was she going to tell him this time? Too complicated? Shut up? Go away?
Go away, she thought. That would be the smart thing.
But the idea of speaking those words out loud filled her with a shocking amount of pain — as though part of her heart would be ripped to pieces. How the hell had that happened? Why him?
Because he is the right one, whispered the dragon. Have faith, for once.
Faith. What was that, again?
But Eddie surprised her.
“Okay,” he said. “What made you think, initially, that Mandy had been hurt by the Cruor Venator?”
Lyssa hesitated. “It’ll sound hokey.”
His mouth twitched. “Try me.”
“I had a vision when I touched her. I saw the blade of a Cruor Venator cutting her body.”
Amazingly, he seemed to take her seriously. “Did you see anything else?”
“Her friend, Flo.”
Eddie was silent a moment. “Let’s say all these homeless women have been taken by the Cruor Venator, and not some other crazy person. If they aren’t the typical target, then why bother?”
Lyssa said the first thing that came to mind. “Training.”
“What?”
She felt ill having to explain. “People aren’t born knowing how to kill.”
“That’s disgusting.” Eddie looked away, swallowing hard. “But if you’re right. . is she training more like Betty and Nikola?”
“I’d be shocked if she was.”
“But?”
“But it’s possible,” she admitted reluctantly. “I don’t know why she’d want to. A Cruor Venator doesn’t keep more than she can control.”
Eddie was silent a moment. “I was told they. . absorb things. . from blood. If one of them. . tasted Mandy. . could your connection to the woman have been found that way?”
“Maybe. I don’t know. Something stinks about this.”
“Besides the obvious?”
Besides everything, she wanted to say. Including what I should do about you.
Lyssa had never let anyone slip under her guard as quickly as Eddie. Here she was, telling him things no one else knew. . revealing her problems, her life. . letting him risk his life. . and she barely knew him.
She just. . couldn’t help herself. The need to share with him, to be with him, was overwhelming. Beyond instinct. Natural as breathing.
Could she even trust him?
Yes, whispered the dragon. I would kill him for you if his heart meant to hurt yours.
No, Lyssa replied. I wouldn’t let you.
As if you could prevent me, it replied, with such chilling certainty she had to stop walking and hold her head.
“What is it?” asked Eddie. His voice was low, thick with concern, and sent an aching rumble through her heart.
“You ever feel like you have a split personality inside your head?” Lyssa tried to make it sound like a joke, but he gave her an odd look that made her feel embarrassed. “Never mind.”
Eddie’s mouth softened into a faint smile. He took her right hand in his, holding it loose and warm — and then, as if that wasn’t shock enough, he kissed her palm — with breathtaking gentleness.
The heat of his touch soaked through the glove. Muscles she hadn’t even known were tense seemed to relax, and a tight knot buried deep in her chest unwound, just a little. No one had ever held that deformed hand of hers. It felt strange and good. Too good.
“I know what you’re talking about,” he said.
Hard to breathe. Lyssa felt naked in his gaze but anchored, too. More safe, more accepted, than she had in years — right now, in this moment. She didn’t know if that made her a fool or naïve — or very lucky — but it scared her enough that she pulled her hand free and backed away from him.
“Lyssa,” said Eddie, but she stepped out in the street in front of an oncoming cab. The driver barely stopped in time and leaned on his horn. Lyssa ignored his ire, slid around to the side, and got in. So did Eddie before she could shut the door.
“What are you doing?” he said to her, angry. “Running again?”
“Screw you,” she replied, even though he was right. “Get out of this cab.”
“No,” he snapped. “Forget about that. And next time, try not to get yourself run over.”
“Hey,” said the driver, flicking his fingers at them. “Take it outside or give me a place to drive. I don’t got all day.”
Neither did she, unfortunately. Eddie stared at her challengingly, and she shook her head, heart aching as she gave the cab driver the address. He accelerated so hard she slammed backward.
“Women,” he muttered, and turned up the volume on his radio — and kept turning it up — until reggae music seemed to flood every molecule of her body with the not-so-relaxing urge to claw through the divider and rip apart that radio. Her eardrums vibrated. So did her teeth.
Eddie grimaced. Moments later, she heard a loud click, and the radio quit.
The driver said, “Shit, man.”
“Check your wiring,” he told him. “Sometimes it burns.”
Lyssa stared, and he gave her a disarming smile that made all her anger at him feel petty and misplaced.