He did locate a curtain. It was yellowed and ugly, but it was intact fabric, so it would do.
He settled it over Sandis and waited. When the light outside began to draw a purplish tint, she finally stirred.
He was at her side in an instant, surprised by the extent of his relief. “Sandis? Sandis?”
She groaned. Lifted a hand from under his shirt and the curtain and pressed it to her forehead. Her eyes fluttered open and shifted back and forth in obvious confusion. They finally settled on Rone’s face.
She stared for a moment. “We’re alive.”
Rone grinned. “Hell yes, we are. But keep your voice down. Just in case.”
She blinked. Examined their surroundings. Sat up, grabbing the fabric and holding it to her. For some reason, being naked didn’t surprise her. Did her clothing spontaneously incinerate often?
Though he’d expected the decision to become Engel Verlad would bring him adventure and danger, he’d never fathomed getting tangled up in something like this.
Her shoulders tensed. “We’re still here.”
Rone sat back. “Yeah. I don’t know how many of them survived, but at least one person has walked by in the last six hours. I couldn’t get far with a naked woman in my arms.”
She glanced back to him. “Six hours?” No comment on the nudity. Maybe he should accept nothing scandalous was going to come out of that.
He nodded.
She frowned. Looked at her palm in the dimming light. Opened and closed her fist. “I’m usually out for longer than that.”
“Longer?”
She nodded. Studied one arm and then the other. “But this wasn’t the same.”
“The summoning?”
She licked her lips. Cleared her throat. “Water?”
Rone frowned and shook his head.
She accepted it with a nod of her head. “I don’t know. I’ve never done that before. But that was . . . Ireth. Part of him.”
Rone ran fingers back through his hair. “So you mutter something in . . . what, ancient Noscon? And you get fire powers?”
She hugged her knees to her chest. “It felt like a summoning. The heat, the pain—”
“So it does hurt.” There was a hitch in his voice, and he cleared his throat.
She met his eyes. “Like nothing I can describe. Like . . .” She thought for a moment. “Like every fiber of your body is being torn apart. Like it’s burning up, but the fuel never runs out. Like you’re twisting into something else.”
Rone’s stomach tensed. He tried to imagine it . . . but all he felt was a nauseous shiver that made him grateful their roles weren’t reversed. “That . . . sounds awful.”
She simply nodded. It was all so ordinary to her. How could something like that be anything but horribly spectacular? “It happens all at once, and then you wake up the next day. But this . . . this wasn’t like that.”
Setting his elbows on his knees, Rone shook his head. She talked about pain like it was a bad storm that had happened last week. Talking about possession like she would a case of the sniffles. He let out a short, heavy breath. “You’re incredible. You just . . . lit up like a torch and destroyed them. There was ash everywhere . . .”
The smile faded. She hesitated before saying, “I suppose that’s for the best.”
“You suppose?”
She shrugged. “I . . . no one ever tells me what I do as Ireth. Usually I don’t remember enough to put the pieces together. Though I suppose I wasn’t entirely Ireth this time. I was conscious.”
“How?” Rone asked, meeting her eyes. “How did you do it if it hurt that badly? If you were . . . half-possessed, unable to fall into the bliss of unconsciousness?”
The smile returned. And with the utmost sincerity, she answered, “Because I felt Ireth’s love for me.”
That was not the reply Rone had been expecting. He tried to speak, choked on a few possible responses, and settled on, “. . . the fire horse.” One of the hell demons cursed in scripture and preached against by any and every person who donned the four-petaled lily. One of the deranged beasts used to bribe children into eating their dinners and brushing their teeth. A weapon used by the lowest and darkest scum in the city.
She shrugged. Black ashes, a slagging fire demon loved her, and she shrugged. “I felt it. I connected with him like I never have before. It . . . I don’t know. I can’t explain it.” She looked up, peering at the darkening windows through the wide holes in the floors above them. “We can’t stay here.”
Rone ran a hand down his scruff-lined cheeks. She was so . . . different. And it bothered him that that didn’t bother him. “No. But I’m positive there are grafters and mobsmen crawling all over this place. Maybe police farther out. The moment we leave, someone will be tailing us.”
Sandis considered this for a moment. “If we wait a little longer, we could go to Helderschmidt’s.”
“The firearms factory? Did you really used to work there?”
She nodded. “Before the slavers took me. It’s closed at night, except for custodial work, so it will be mostly empty. I know how to get in. We could arm ourselves and hide, at least for the night.”
Rone licked his lips, considering it. They weren’t terribly close to Helderschmidt’s, but they also weren’t far. If they could get on a roof, it would be better.
“All right. Here, I’ll rip armholes in this curtain. You can put the shirt on backward underneath. It’s . . . something. I’ll try to snatch from a clothesline on the way.” He stood.
Sandis handed him the curtain. “I don’t want to take from anyone—”
“Then you’re going to get a lot of attention.” He looked knowingly at her bare legs. His shirt only covered to the tops of her thighs.
He looked for a little too long.
Sandis frowned, but whether it was at him or their situation, she didn’t specify. Merely nodded.
After Rone measured the curtain as best he could with his eyes, he used his teeth to start a hole for one arm, then the other. They were more or less even. He held it up to the fading light. “I should have gone into fashion design.”
Sandis chuckled.
He handed the overly long curtain vest to Sandis, whose eyes fell to his chest, his stomach.
Feeling oddly self-conscious, he asked, “What?”
She shook her head and took the curtain. “Nothing. Thank you.”
He turned around so she could assemble her pathetic outfit. When he turned back, she’d tied the bottom of the curtain together around her legs in the semblance of an ill-fitting diaper.
“Nice.” He tried not to laugh. Laughing was loud, and they needed to keep a low profile.
Sandis shrugged. “The amarinth?”
“Spent. Otherwise I’d be crispy in that alley, too.”
She blanched. “Oh God, Rone. I didn’t even think—” Her voice jumped nearly an octave as it choked up her throat. “I could have killed you. I’m so sorry.”
Taking a step forward, she reached out her hand, then awkwardly dropped it. She looked like she was going to throw up.
Rone blinked at her. The grafters, the fire horse, the nudity . . . none of it had garnered much of a reaction from her. But him nearly dying? That’s what got to her?
Something twanged in his chest. He couldn’t tell exactly what, but it hurt and excited him at the same time. Dissolved, for a moment, the constant pain of that ball of guilt in his stomach.
She cared about him. His own father didn’t care about him. But she— Clearing his throat, Rone glanced away. “It’s fine. If I hadn’t spun the damn thing, I probably could have jumped behind you. Either way, it’s nothing to fuss about.”
She swallowed so hard he could see it through the muscles of her neck. Her stomach rumbled. She pushed a fist into it.
“Are you able to run?” She had no shoes, and he could only imagine summoning a fire-beast into oneself was exhausting.
She took a deep breath. “I think so.” She didn’t sound sure. But it would have to do. Their options were too few and far between.
“All right,” Rone said, scanning the rafters. “Let’s figure out a way up.”