Page 11

"My name is Diana." Simple. Direct. "I was meant to be having a peaceful weekend away from work. Instead, I found you half-drowned in my garden in the early morning."

"You cleaned me up?” my voice cracked.

"You were hypothermic and covered in mud. It was that or let you die." She leaned forward slightly, and I fought the urge to flinch back. "I'm leaving this afternoon. Heading back to the city. You're welcome to stay here and recover. Or?—”

The silence stretched between us.

"Or?"

"Or I know someone who is looking for some help. He runs a business, needs an assistant." Those color-shifting eyes held mine. "He's very good at not asking questions that he doesn't need answers to."

A laugh bubbled up in my throat, coming out more like a cough. "Just like that? Help the random woman you found dying in your garden?"

"Sometimes kindness is just kindness." She rose from the chair in one fluid motion. "Think about it. I'll have some food brought up. You must be starving."

My stomach cramped at the mention of food, reminding me I hadn't eaten since...since before. I plucked at the borrowed nightgown. "I don't have any money. Nothing but this. I can’t give any ID for an official job."

"He won’t need it. He owes me a personal favor. Consider it human decency." Her lips curved in what might have been amusement at some private joke. She moved toward the door. "There are clean clothes in the bathroom. Take your time, get cleaned up. We can talk more after you've eaten."

I waited until her footsteps faded down the hall before letting my legs give out. The plush carpet caught me as I slid down, my back still pressed against the bedpost. My hands were shaking.

Nothing about this made sense.

Random acts of kindness didn't happen. Not in my experience. There was always a price, always an angle, always teeth behind the smile.

But I was alive. Clean. Safe, for the moment at least.

The bathroom door stood partially open, promising hot water and clean clothes. My body ached for a proper shower, to wash away the lingering phantom sensations of mud and…and other things. But my instincts screamed to run while I had the chance.

Except I had nowhere to go. No money, no phone, no ID. Nothing but a borrowed nightgown and the bruises under it.

And if the pack was looking for me...

Diana returned so silently I didn't hear her approach. She carried a silver tray, the scent of coffee and warm bread making my stomach clench painfully. She set it on the small table near the window, then stepped back.

"Take your time," she said softly. "There's more if you're still hungry after." She moved toward the door with that unnaturally fluid grace. "When you're ready, I'll be in the garden."

I waited until she was gone before approaching the tray: fresh croissants, fruit, and a carafe of coffee that smelled like heaven. Simple food, easy on an empty stomach.

My hands shook as I picked up a croissant. The bread was still warm, flaking apart in my fingers. I hadn’t really eaten yesterday, planning to save it for my dinner.

My beautiful dinner. Burned and gone to waste.

Unless he’d eaten it after working up an appetite burying me.

New, odd magick sparked at my fingertips, singing the wooden table. I flinched, taken aback, and it faded away.

Weird.

Through the French doors, Diana stood among the roses in the garden below, perfectly still, like a statue carved from marble and gold.

What is she?

I could tell she was supernatural, but not exactly sure what. Perhaps I hadn’t run into her kind before?

I ate slowly, methodically, forcing myself not to wolf down the food despite my body's demands. The coffee scalded my raw throat, but I didn't care; it was real, grounding, something to focus on besides memories of dirt filling my mouth.

The shower called to me. I needed to think, and hot water had always helped clear my head.