The Girl with the Iron Touch

“Not really.” Emily looked straight ahead. “Not now. It was a boy I’d known most of my life. What’s important is that he might have gotten my body, but he couldn’t touch my heart or my soul.” She turned her head toward Finley, gaze bright. “I’ve never told anyone else this, but I had my revenge on him later.”

Finley prided herself on having a decent imagination, but she couldn’t begin to fathom the sort of suffering a girl as intelligent and determined as Emily could exact from such a bastard. She thought about the boot print she herself had left on Lord Felix’s forehead, and how good it had felt. “Did that make it easier?”

“It did, a little. I felt like I got a piece of myself back. Please don’t say anything to the boys. Sam doesn’t know. I’m not sure I ever want him to.”

“And he won’t ever—not from me. But doesn’t he frighten you a little?” He intimidated her at times, and she had almost killed him. He was so big, so strong. So angry. Even though she’d caught glimpses of lightness in him over these past few months, he normally stomped about as if a thundercloud hung over his head.

Emily smiled. “Nah. Sam makes me feel safe. Sometimes too safe. I think that’s why I fight him so often. I refuse to hide behind him. I don’t want him to stand in front of me and shield me. I want him to stand beside me. With me.”

Finley understood, so she nodded. What could she possibly say?

Small, warm fingers tangled with hers and squeezed. Emily had taken her hand and was smiling at her in a way that made her chest tight. “Thank you for caring enough to ask, but also not to push. I’d forgotten what it was to have a best friend before you came along.”

Oh, blast. Finley’s throat felt as though it was closing up on itself, and her eyes burned most uncomfortably. She didn’t trust herself to speak, so she pulled her hand free and wrapped her arms around the Irish girl, lifting her off the ground in a fierce hug that made her squeal with laughter.

They walked the remainder of the distance to the exit in comfortable silence. It wasn’t until they were almost out that Finley realized she no longer felt as if they were being watched. They hadn’t encountered anyone else in the catacombs, hadn’t even seen a sign of humanity in that area.

So who could have been watching? And why?

Something dropped to the ground beside her. She whirled around, ready to fight. Emily pulled an Aether pistol from the holster on her belt.

It was a rat. There was another one on a ledge above their heads—no doubt the first one’s mate. The one above them had a button in its teeth that looked to be mother-of-pearl.

She and Emily exchanged sheepish glances. “I reckon we were being watched after all,” she joked.

Emily shook her head, putting her pistol away. “Let’s go home. There’s nothing down here.”

Finley agreed, and when they rounded the next corner they saw light from the exit ahead. It was odd for Jack to have been so wrong, but whoever had the crate must have moved it that same day. There was nothing down here to be worried about, except a rat with a button in its mouth.

Nothing at all.

Chapter 5

If it were possible for people to be the weather, then Sam Morgan would be a thundercloud—dark, tumultuous, as gorgeous as he was intimidating. He watched the girls approach from his bedroom window.

“He looks like he is on the verge of imploding,” Finley commented. They were walking back from the stables where they’d left their velocycles.

Emily smiled, glancing up. Her gaze met Sam’s for a second before he dropped the curtain. “That he does.” But she considered it a victory that he hadn’t tried to follow her, that he had trusted her to go with Finley and to return in one piece.

“Gadzooks. You like it when he’s all scowly and thumping his chest.”

Sometimes, thought Emily, Finley was infuriatingly intuitive. Although, perhaps she underestimated her friend’s intelligence. perhaps she didn’t hide her feelings as brilliantly as she thought.

“It lets me know he cares,” she admitted. “It’s not as though he’s the type to say what he’s feeling.” Today was turning out to be a champion for sharing secrets. Why not tell Finley the shocking thoughts she sometimes had about Sam? Intimate thoughts based on pictures she’d seen in a book in Griffin’s library…thoughts of her and Sam doing some of those things—things she thought she’d never want to do with anyone. “What?”

Finley stared at her as they crossed the garden terrace to the French doors. “Your face is burning so bright, I’m afraid for the draperies. Are you all right?”

Fortunately, no one ever died of embarrassment. “Must be the sun. I always end up looking like a tomato.”

“Right,” her friend drawled. “Because the sun is so very hot through those thick rain clouds.”

“Oh, shut up!” Emily laughed despite herself. “I’m blushing and I’ve no intention of explaining why.”

A slow grin spread across the other girl’s pretty face. Eyes the color of honey twinkled as she opened the terrace door. “Oh, is that the way of it, then?”

Emily swept past her into the house. “’Tis.” Her mirth faded when she saw Sam waiting for her. He looked relieved to see her. That was almost as good as happy. He’d been worried, that was obvious. She could assume he thought she couldn’t take care of herself, but she knew that wasn’t it. Sam just thought he could look after her better than anyone else.

It was sweet when she thought about it. Somewhat.

Even Finley noticed the difference in his expression, though he wore his usual frown. She took one look at him and turned to Emily. “Right. I’m going to go…do that…thing I have to do.”

“Griffin wants to see you,” Sam said in a tone that made Griffin sound like the matron at a strict school.

“Does he?” Finley’s jaw set stubbornly. “I don’t know if I have time. I’m going to be terribly busy.”

“Doing that thing you have to do?” he inquired. Was he actually teasing Finley? He used to make sport of his friends quite often before his accident.

“Quite.” Finley lifted her chin. “It’s very important.”

For a moment, Emily thought Sam might actually smile. He shrugged. “I don’t care what games the two of you play with each other. You’re both mad as far as I’m concerned.”

As Finley walked past him, she gave him a sweet smile. “Maybe you can find out why she’s the color of a ripe tomato.”

Emily’s cheeks heated once more, and she bit the inside of her mouth to keep from laughing. She couldn’t laugh, not when Sam might think it was directed at him.