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  The grand vaulted ceilings rose up and up, well-illuminated by the light streaming in from the windows marching along one wall. As soon as they stepped into the room, Ian tensed, nudging Marley behind him and reaching for his sidearm. Marley didn’t make a sound as he made a sweep of the space, just kept close and crept behind him with admirable stealth for a human.

  A woman stepped into view on the balcony, a pistol in her hand. Ian ducked, tugging Marley behind the tipped carcass of a long dead piano. But no shot sounded.

  “Put it down, Scarlett,” he called.

  “Fifteen years, Ian. You don’t call. You don’t write. Now, suddenly, you want a favor? I gotta ask myself, what’s up with you? This isn’t your usual deal.”

  No. No it wasn’t. Not by any stretch of imagination.

  He signaled for Marley to stay put and stepped out from the piano, gun pointed toward the ceiling to indicate no threat. “I’m not here to bust you, if that’s what worries you. If I’d wanted to do that, I could’ve dispatched somebody years ago.”

  Scarlett’s dark eyes narrowed, considering. “Okay, I’ll bite. Why the walk down memory lane?” She lowered the gun, shoving it back into a shoulder holster and propping both hands on her hips.

  “I need your particular brand of expertise.”

  A slow grin curved one side of her generous mouth. “Well, now, that covers quite a bit. Which part exactly?”

  “Erasure.”

  Scarlett nodded. “That little bit of five foot nothin’ hiding behind the piano, I take it?”

  Satisfied she was in negotiation mode, Ian holstered his weapon and held out a hand to Marley.

  She eased out from cover, her attention focused on Scarlett. “What exactly do you mean by erasure?” Her hand found his, gripped tight.

  “She in thrall?” asked Scarlett, ignoring the question.

  Ian bristled at the suggestion. “No,” he ground out.

  Scarlett’s all-seeing eyes scanned each of their faces, lingering on their joined hands. “So it’s like that, is it?”

  “It’s like nothing,” he said.

  Scarlett made a derisive snort. Ian scowled at her. She stepped off the second floor balcony as if it were merely a curb, plummeting to the ballroom floor, black hair a streaming banner. Marley cried out, started forward even as Scarlett landed in an easy crouch.

  “I’m fine, sugar. No worries.” Scarlett rose and prowled toward them, speculation written across her face.

  Marley pressed closer to Ian, teetering back toward uneasy, but not yet afraid. He could all but taste it through her skin, felt his own power unfurling. It would be so easy to nudge her over—

  “Why the erasure?” Scarlett asked.

  Ian jerked his attention back to the Fixer. “She saw a Nix. He saw her and reported it to the Council. You know what she’s facing without your help.”

  “Fucking bastard law. Happy to help. Usual fee. Plus you owe me a favor at some unnamed time in the future.”

  He didn’t hesitate. “Done.”

  “No, not done,” interrupted Marley, tugging her hand free and crossing her arms. “What is erasure?”

  Before he could formulate a reasonable reply, Scarlett spoke up. “Memory wipe. It’s what I do. One of the things I do. I get rid of the troublesome knowledge in your noggin and the problem goes away.” She snapped her fingers. “Poof.”

  Realization dawned on Marley’s face as she stared at Scarlett. “You’re one of them.”

  “Marley, I can explain.”

  Ian watched her trust shatter. That instant jolt of emotion broke his control. Tendrils of power shot out, tugged at that thread of fear, and amped it.

  Fuck.

  He reeled it back in, fisting his hands to keep from reaching for her, but the damage was done. She bolted.

  “Wait!” he shouted, still trying to lock away the hunger. She was already halfway to the door by the time he managed to scramble after her.

  “Got this,” said Scarlett. And she sang. The tone rang out, filling the ballroom with all the power of an aria’s heartbreaking crescendo.

  Marley’s body jerked to a halt, an insect caught in honey. Her limbs continued to slowly flail as she fought to free herself from the siren’s song.

  “Stop! Scarlett, stop!” Ian made it across the space in time to catch Marley as the echoes of Scarlett’s voice faded. “Marley, just listen.”

  She fought him, bucking and kicking in his grasp until he was forced to tighten his grip, pressing her so close to his own body, she couldn’t move. Had he done any permanent damage? Ian ran a quick check of her vitals. Elevated heart-rate, consistent with the fight or flight response, but nothing out of the ordinary. Ruthless, he shut down his body’s response to her fear and gritted out, “Listen.”

  “Give me one good reason why I should,” she said.

  “Because I’m trying to help you.”

  “By turning me over to one of them?”

  “Whoa now, I am not allied with the Council,” Scarlett protested.

  Ian knew that wasn’t what Marley meant. “I told you that most Mirus are just like anybody else. They don’t agree with the Council’s laws. Some of them help to circumvent those laws. Scarlett is one of those people. Helping people is what she does.”

  “Fucking with my head is not on my list of acceptable alternatives,” Marley snarled.

  “There’s no other option. You’ve been awake for days. You will crash soon, and you will dream. And they’ll find you. The only way to ensure your safety is to remove the memory.”

  She closed her eyes, still vibrating with frustration.

  Ian looked to Scarlett. “Let’s get this over with.”

  The Fixer frowned. “I’m not okay with doing this against her will, Ian.”

  “If you don’t, she’s going to die,” he said. “As long as the knowledge is in her head, the Dream Walkers can find her. She’ll never be safe. You’ve seen it before. You know I’m right.”

  She shifted her attention to Marley, sympathy in every line of her face. “This isn’t meant to hurt you. It’s this or be hunted for the rest of your life. And I can promise, with one of the Council’s assassins, that won’t be long.”

  “People make all kinds of justifications for taking away choices,” Marley spat. Rage seethed around her, a miasma of red, shot through with veins of gunmetal gray betrayal.

  Hunger beat in his blood, desperate, starving.

  Scarlett looked at Ian again. One last chance.

  “Do it.”

  “How long?” she asked.

  It took a moment to figure out how many days they’d been on the run. Added one for good measure. “Six days.”

  Scarlett nodded and moved over to Marley, who stared daggers at them both, muscles tensed to flee at the earliest opportunity.

  “It’s going to be just fine. Quick and painless,” said Scarlett, taking Marley’s hand between both of hers in a gesture that would’ve meant comfort from a human. In a half siren, it established the link they needed to work their magic.

  Marley kept her gaze on him, eyes glistening now with more than just fury. “I trusted you.”

  Miserable, Ian nodded. “I know. I’m sorry.”

  Marley’s face went lax, though her hands, balled to tight fists, stayed ready to punch.

  I’m sorry, he thought. I’m sorry to take something else from you, but it’s better this way. You can’t reveal what you don’t know.

  At least when it was over, she wouldn’t remember she hated him.

  “I can’t do it.”

  Ian shifted his attention to the Fixer. “You what?”

  “I can’t do it. She’s been wiped before. The block is decaying already. If I try to do another, it could do very serious damage or might not stick at all.”

  No. That single thought echoed through Ian’s brain as his plan began to crumble. If she still had the memories of what she saw, the Dream Walkers could still track her. She’d never be safe.

&nbs
p; “When?” The voice was so soft, it took Ian a moment to realize Marley had spoken.

  Scarlett kept her hand clasped, frowning in concentration. “When you were very young. A toddler probably.”

  Marley stopped struggling. Vibrant green hope fountained up as she asked in a firmer voice, “This…block. Can you remove it?”

  “I can’t vouch for the fidelity of what’s underneath, but I can clean it out. Whatever’s there might take a few days to surface,” said Scarlett.

  “Then do it.”

  The half-siren glanced at Ian for confirmation.

  What would they be unearthing? If someone put a block on her mind, she saw something. Would they still be looking? Would removing the block double the threats they were facing? Or would it open another door? Give some kind of other option since she’d obviously touched the Mirus world before?

  “We need to know what else she’s seen,” he said.

  “This will only take a few minutes.” Scarlett went to work.

  Marley went lax again, sliding into the light trance required for the process. Ian shifted closer, slipping an arm around her waist when she began to sway.

  “Almost there…” muttered Scarlett.

  Marley’s body went rigid in his hold.

  “What’s happening?” snapped Ian. “Are you hurting her?”

  “Trying not to,” Scarlett muttered. “This block is a mess. It’s in pieces. Shut up and let me work.”

  Ian didn’t know how Scarlett’s abilities functioned, wasn’t sure what the recipients felt. But he’d known her mother, Aurora, a full-blooded siren who’d worked as a Truth Taker for the Council of Races for more than a century. Unlike her daughter, Aurora’s abilities were not limited only to humans and the weaker-minded Mirus races. Over the years, Ian had seen many prisoners and suspects broken in interrogation by her. He’d never given a thought to whether it hurt them. Until now.

  “Done,” pronounced Scarlett.

  Marley slumped, unconscious. Ian caught her, pulled her close, even as he shot an accusatory glare at the Fixer. “What did you do?”

  “What she asked. She’ll be out for a while. It takes time for the mind to recover from this kind of trauma. But she should be fine when she wakes up.”

  “And when will that be?” he demanded.

  “No idea. Everybody’s different. I’ve never personally undone somebody else’s old work before.”

  “And you didn’t think that was relevant to mention before you screwed around in her brain?” Ian scooped Marley up. She was light, but he still swayed a little as his bad leg adjusted to the additional weight. He’d need to get her to a safe location, somewhere he knew the terrain, had the home-field advantage.

  “Ian, what the hell are you doing with this woman? It’s one thing for me to flaunt the laws. I’ve been doing it on the fringes for years. But you… This is treason.”

  “I didn’t expect it to go like this,” he admitted.

  “You’re not used to your plans being foiled,” she said. And she knew him well enough to understand the truth of that.

  “I’m not going to abandon her to them. I can’t.” Ian could see the Why? in her dark eyes, and he was grateful she didn’t voice the question.

  “So what are you going to do?” she asked.

  “I haven’t got a fucking clue.” It cost him to admit it.

  Scarlett hesitated, clearly weighing whether or not to say something.

  “Spill it,” Ian ordered, impatient.

  “Have you considered taking her to the Underground?”

  Instinctively, Ian tightened his grip on Marley as phantom explosions burst in his memory. “Absolutely not.”

  “I know you’re not exactly on the best of terms—”

  “That’s putting it mildly.”

  “—but this is what they do.”

  Ian had a pretty clear vision of what the Underground did. And his job had been to hunt them for it. No way would he hand Marley off to a bunch of disorganized malcontents who thought terrorist attacks were the best means of achieving their political agenda.

  Scarlett held up her hands in defeat. “Fine. I can see your answer in your face. But Ian, this is serious shit you’re pulling, and you’re gonna run out of friends real quick.”

  “That’s a chance I’ll have to take.”

  Chapter 6

  “You have to hide, baby.” Mama’s voice trembled and her hands shook as she fumbled with the screws holding the air vent in place.

  Marley didn’t know what was going on, didn’t like how Mama sounded. Scared. Mama wasn’t supposed to be scared. She was supposed to keep the bad things away.

  “We should go under the covers,” said Marley. It’s where she always hid. Where no one could see her. If they hid under the covers, they could snuggle.

  Mama got out the last of the screws and yanked the grate off. She reached out a hand, tugged Marley close. Too tight. Marley squirmed. Mama kissed her and nudged her toward the dark hole in the wall. “You have to hide extra special well. You hear me?”

  Marley thought the pantry was better. Or under the bed. Somewhere that wasn’t this tight, dark space. She resisted, began to sniffle and whine. “I want Daddy.”

  “Marley!” snapped Mama, and her tone shut Marley up. “None of that. Not now. Daddy isn’t here right now. You have to hide and be very, very quiet. Understand? You’re my big girl, aren’t you?”

  Marley didn’t understand, not at all. But she was a big girl. If Mama wanted her to play this silly game, she’d do it. She crawled into the air vent. Mama handed in Spud, the raggedy teddy bear, then leaned in to press her cheek to Marley’s. Her cheek was wet. “I love you, baby.”

  “Mama?”

  “Not a sound, sweetheart. You have to stay quieter than a mouse to win. No matter what you hear. You must stay quiet.”

  It had to be a Really Important Game. So Marley nodded. She wanted to whimper as Mama put the air vent back in place and screwed it in, but she’d promised. So she hugged her knees and waited.

  Mama kept glancing over her shoulder toward the front door. If she angled right to see around the edge of the hall, Marley could just see it through the vent’s slats, but nothing was there. It was just a shut door. Was Mama waiting for somebody else to come play?

  Mama laid two fingers over her lips, then blew at the grate. Marley caught the kiss in her fist and grinned, smashing it against her cheek. She imitated the gesture, but her mother was already turning, walking away.

  Marley twisted around so she could watch what was going on. Mama went down the hall, messed around in her closet. Maybe she was pulling out a surprise! Marley had been awfully good this week. All gold stars.

  But when she came back, Mama had the black plastic case she kept on the top shelf. The one Marley was never, ever supposed to touch. The couch springs squeaked. Mama opened the case. Marley couldn’t see, but she heard the snap of the clasps and some kind of click. Then nothing for what felt like forever.

  She wanted to call out, but Mama had said be quiet. Marley hugged Spud close and waited.

  At the sound of the knock on the door, Marley started. Had she fallen asleep? Who was that? Maybe it was Daddy. He made Mama feel better, and he always had butterscotch disks in his pocket for Marley.

  She strained, but all she could see was Mama’s right hand with the gun tucked behind her back as she went to answer the door.

  “Who is it?”

  “It’s just me, dear. I made a double batch of shepherd’s pie, and I thought you’d like some for supper.”

  Mama hesitated, then tucked the gun in the back of her waistband before undoing the chain, and flipping the lock. She opened the door to Mrs. Benson, their neighbor down the hall. “That’s very kind of you, Irene.”

  “I’ll just put this in the kitchen, shall I?” Old Mrs. Benson shuffled in, the hem of her housecoat flapping as she walked.

  From her position in the air duct, Marley could just see her feet. They looked way
too big in heavy black boots instead of the fuzzy pink slippers Mrs. Benson usually wore. The sight of them made Marley uneasy.

  “Oh, that’s all right. I’ll just take that,” said Mama, reaching forward.

  The black boots braced. Mrs. Benson swiveled and the covered dish crashed to the floor and shattered. Empty. Mama cried out and stumbled back, and Mrs. Benson grew like something out of a scary story. They moved out of her line of sight until all she could see was the edge of a man’s broad back. A man who had been Mrs. Benson.

  Marley bit Spud’s arm to keep from screaming.

  The gun went off, a horrible roar of noise. The man’s shoulder kicked back and a red mist exploded out the back. Marley covered her ears and rocked as he moved out of sight, following her mother into the living room.

  The gun went off again. She could hear it through her hands, a nightmare sound, like thunder inside the house. There was a series of thumps, and Mama’s scream was cut off suddenly. Marley heard another thump, like somebody falling. Then there was silence.

  She peeled her hands away from her ears and listened. The man moved through the apartment, his boots quieter than they should be for being so big. He went into every room, opened every closet and cabinet. Mama didn’t do anything to stop him.

  When he paused in the hall just outside the air vent, Marley stopped breathing. Her Cabbage Patch doll, Natalie, dangled from one of his hands. Marley could see the circles of pink marker she’d colored on, could almost reach out and touch that plastic cheek. She clutched Spud like a furry shield. The man didn’t crouch down to look inside. After another moment, he crossed to the door and left, shutting it quietly behind him.

  Why didn’t Mama come get her out? Marley didn’t want to play this game anymore. She didn’t want to play this game ever again.

  Nobody came to see what all the noise was about. No neighbors. No nice policeman. Just that awful quiet.

  Marley fell asleep waiting.

  She jolted at the sound of the door slamming open.

  “Amanda!”

  It was Daddy. He would fix it. He would make this better.