Chapter Thirty

Duncan

I jumped from the train, putting as much distance between myself and the steaming locomotive as possible. I had enough reasons to sweat in this stifling Galveston air. I didn't need another. Heat flamed my face and chest. I was angry with myself for foolishly missing the earlier departure. It was nearly nightfall—too late to form a search party for my daughter. She would be all alone in the open sea until morning unless she transformed into a dragon and flew to land. But then what would happen to her if she was spotted?

I checked my pocket watch. The hour was late. I'd need to find accommodations and start my search in the morning. I grumbled when I knocked over a piece of luggage. The pain jarred my leg, forcing me to limp toward a bench as my knee swelled. I was still not accustomed to such pain. And with this new pain came a new fear—if my wounds wouldn't heal, I was no longer immortal. For centuries I'd defied death. I'd been shot in the chest, scalped, and even beheaded. Each time my injuries magically healed. And now a simple piece of luggage had the power to cripple me. I was in a sad state, and I feared my predicament would only get worse.

I jolted upright at the piercing sound of a feminine scream. "Help! Help me, please!"

Instinctively, I ignored my throbbing knee as I raced toward the sound. I put my life at risk, but fool that I was, I was unable to ignore a cry for help.

I came upon them in an alley behind a noisy saloon. A tall, reedy man with a crooked hat and a tapered mustache used a cane to press a woman against a wall. She flailed and gagged while he held the cane against her neck, cutting off her air.

"Let her go!" I bellowed.

The woman crumpled to the ground as the man released her and spun around.

"Leave us be." He eyed me with a sneer. "This isn't your fight."

"A brute attacking a defenseless woman?" I took a step forward, balling my hands. "I'd say it just became my fight."

"Defenseless woman?" He tossed back his head and laughed, heedless of the hat that slipped off his head. "You mean a two-penny, thieving whore?" He waved at the woman, whose chest heaved while she gasped for air. "She ransacked my apartment."

The woman's brown hair was disheveled, and her dark, smeared face paint made her look part raccoon. Already, the welts across her neck were starting to darken. She couldn't have been older than twenty-five, yet the lines around her mouth and eyes indicated a life of hardship. She kept a stony gaze focused on her assailant as she slowly rose to her feet. "You owed me money."

She stepped away from him, but he blocked her with the cane and jerked her to his side.

He eyed her coolly. "You didn't finish the job."

I cautiously closed the distance between them. "Sir, unhand that woman, and we will get to the bottom of this misunderstanding as gentlemen."

The man looked at me with a predatory gleam in his eyes. I had lived long enough to recognize this man was calculating the risks of an attack.

"Come now," the man said as he dug into her arm, causing her to cry out. "You really don't want to lose your life over a gutter slut."

I slowly slipped a hand beneath my belt, fingering the hilt of my blade. Though I hadn't needed its protection since the last gold rush, I was glad to have it now. "I'm not going to tell you again to let her go."

The woman turned up her chin, putting on a brave face, though her lower lip trembled. "You heard the man, Dr. Straw. Do as he says."

Dr. Straw? This brute was a healer? Most doctors I had known were respectable and genuinely concerned over the welfare of others. Over the past five centuries, I had gotten pretty good at discerning the measure of a man, but this man, despite his position, had no more scruples than a common crook.

After he released his grip on the woman, she cursed him while rubbing her arm.

"Very well." The doctor flashed a wide grin, one that didn't match the cold void in his emotionless eyes. "Perhaps we can discuss this as gentlemen." He stepped forward, holding out a hand.

Suspecting this was a ruse, I warily eyed the doctor, keeping a grip on the blade.

The doctor whipped his cane so fast, I had no time to react. My blade went flying across the alley, landing with a clank against the brick wall. I cursed as blood spewed from my wrist, then blocked the cane as the doctor tried to strike me a second time.

I yanked the cane hard enough that Dr. Straw lost his grip, nearly falling on his face as he tried to retrieve it. The doctor swore when I spun it around and whacked him across the nose. Dr. Straw held his bloody nose and backed up before taking off at a run in the other direction. I thought about chasing him down, but a pain in my gut prevented me from moving. I looked down at the widening bullseye of crimson that seeped into my white shirt and then I looked at the cane in my grip. Why had I not noticed before that a blade protruded from one end?

I placed a hand on my gut and winced at the pain. More blood seeped between my fingers, and it felt as if the hole in my body was widening. My vision tunneled as I stared at my bloody hand. Somewhere in the distance, I thought I heard a woman screaming. I cursed myself for a fool. I'd come so close, and now I'd die before I was able to save Safina.

My knees weakened, my vision blackened, and I fell to the ground with Safina's name on my lips.

* * *

Fiona

I DIDN'T KNOW HOW Ifound my way back to Mrs. Jenkens's home, for I walked as if in a daze. How could I have been so careless, so blinded by my heartbreak, while completely ignoring my daughter's needs? Now my sweet child was lost to me, possibly forever. What kind of a heartless mother was I, that I'd driven Safina to seek solace in the arms of a man she hardly knew?

I clutched the banister at the bottom of the stairs leading to the front porch, buckling as if I'd been punched in the gut. What if Josef was wrong? What if Gabriel didn't love my daughter? Where had they gone? What if the mortals there discovered Safina's secret? How would she protect herself from guns and cannons?

I was so consumed in misery and worry that I didn't see Dr. Straw approach until it was too late to avoid him.

"Good evening, Miss Fiona." He held a bloody cloth to his nose as he bowed before me with a regal, almost comical, sweep of his arm. "Forgive me, but I do not know you by any other name, and I have heard so much about you, I feel as if we should be on a first-name basis." Despite the wheezing coming from his nose, his words slid off his tongue with the slippery ease of a skilled liar.

I was no fool. His sugary sweetness was laced with poison. "What do you want?" I growled, amazed my fingers didn't itch to heal this man, but my fists did long to punch him. I wasn't sure why the sight of him made me so angry. Call it dragoness intuition, but I suspected his injured nose had resulted from cowardice or aggression.

His eyes sharpened, but he broke into a wide smile, blood dripping down his cleft. "I suffered a slight misfortune tonight, and I am in need of a skilled healer."

I crossed my arms with a sneer. "You should go to your hospital. They have modern medicine there."

He appeared unfazed by my insult. "But I have heard your gift is far superior to that of modern medicine."

"I'm sorry. I'm not healing anyone today." I pushed past him. After the heartbreak I'd suffered, I was in no mood to deal with a snake oil charlatan. Bloody nose or not, I knew the real reason he'd come calling—to discover my healing secret, a secret I'd never divulge to the likes of him.

Much to my surprise, he grabbed my elbow, jerking me toward him. "Please," he pleaded with wide eyes. "I'm in so much pain. I can pay you handsomely."

I shook free his grip, which was surprisingly strong for a man so thin. "I said no."

He arched a brow. "I have fifty dollars that says you'll change your mind." He jingled coins in his pocket, coins which probably amounted to no more than a few cents. I hadn't yet learned how to read Galveston currency, but I could tell when I was being lied to; the man was unable to hold my gaze for more than a few seconds.

I glared at him from beneath my lashes. "Please step away from me before I hurt you."

A look of shock crossed his features, his cheeks turning as red as a crimson sunrise. "You hurt me?" He slapped his chest, laughing. "Believe me, madam, it is you who should be afraid of me." He sneered as if I were no more significant than the grime beneath his boots. "You have no idea what I'm capable of. I've heard rumors you've been practicing witchcraft." He said this loud enough to command the attention of passersby, who looked back at us with a slackened jaw. He snapped his fingers. "I could have you thrown out of this town in a heartbeat."

I stepped up to him, flashing a coy smile. "Your nose is bruised, not broken, but your organs are failing, no doubt due to your penchant for drink." I clucked my tongue while shaking my head. "You will not live another year."

Despite the balmy Galveston air, which caused sweat to drip down my back and make my heavy dress cling to me like a second skin, I shivered as a chill swept through me. The look of cold malice in his eyes was enough to turn my limbs to ice. "Witch," he said on a low growl and latched onto my wrist with bruising strength, "you've just sealed your fate."

Just then, Mrs. Jenkens's hulk of a servant, Moses, pounded down the stairs with heavy boots. "Miss Fiona. My missus has been worried sick over you." He waved me over to him. "Let's get you inside."

I was not surprised when Dr. Straw released me. He was the sort to pick on defenseless women when alone but cower in the presence of other men. Unfortunately, I feared he was also the sort to hold a grudge, and to let that grudge fester while planning revenge. I didn't need dragoness intuition to know this would not be my last encounter with Dr. Straw.