Scotty was walking along the ocean shore, enjoying the cool soothing water rushing over his feet. When he saw Beth walking toward him in a fiery red dress, a smile claimed his lips. Happy to see her up and well, he hurried to meet her, eager to take her in his arms. She seemed just as eager, and they met and embraced there on the shore’s edge. But as he bent to kiss her, Scotty realized it wasn’t a dress she wore; Beth was engulfed in flames, and now so was he. The fire licked along his skin and burned his hands, arms, chest, and face as they fell to the ground screaming. They rolled, and rolled, and . . .

His own screams woke him. Scotty sat up abruptly, his heart drumming so loudly in his ears that it took a moment before he became aware of a soothing voice saying, “It’s all right. You’re safe. I’ve given you something for the pain. Rest now.”

Turning his head, he stared blankly at the woman speaking, a redhead with soft silver-green eyes. “Who’re you?”

“Rachel,” she answered easily. “Dr. Rachel Argeneau. Your doctor, so be a good man and lie down and rest. Doctor’s orders.”

Scotty scowled groggily, and opened his mouth to tell her to bugger off, but for some reason he couldn’t seem to get the words out. His mouth drooped and then his eyelids did, and he was pretty sure he fell back on the bed. Before he could worry about it too much, he was asleep.

The next time Scotty woke, it was much more slowly. Pain and hunger drew him inexorably toward consciousness until he blinked his eyes open. He was in the blue room Sam had prepared for him at the Enforcer house. It was dark, the curtains open to reveal a full moon and twinkling stars, and he had to wonder what the hell he was doing in bed. He should have been up and about helping to catch rogues at this hour.

Pushing aside the sheets and blankets that covered him, Scotty sat up and slid his feet to the floor, but then just sat there for a moment. He felt incredibly weak and had no idea why. He probably needed blood, Scotty decided and grabbed the post of the headboard to steady himself as he stood up. His legs trembled, threatening to give out, but he was sure a bit of blood would fix that right up. Determined to find some, he started to move, intending to walk around the bed, but paused abruptly as he bumped into something in the dark. His eyes didn’t appear to be focusing properly, and his night vision wasn’t working as it should.

Beginning to worry now, Scotty reached for the lamp on the bedside table and flicked it on, startled when the bright light brought a moan from the other side of the bed. Turning, he stared at the figure lying on the opposite side, and then gaped at the horror looking back at him. Charred, black skin mixed with patches of bloody red spots and two eyes presently a solid gold as the nanos did their work. Scotty opened his mouth on an alarmed shout even as the figure in his bed released a terrified shriek, and then the floor was rushing up to meet him.

The next time Scotty woke, he did so abruptly, his eyes opening to stare at the ceiling overhead. Memories from the nightmares he’d endured crowded into his mind, but he forced them away to take stock of himself. He wasn’t in pain, wasn’t even feeling hunger, the room wasn’t on fire, no burning women were dancing before him, and no charred monsters lay in the bed with him. Scotty was quite sure he was awake this time . . . and he didn’t feel half-bad.

“Are you just going to lie there staring at the ceiling all day, or did you want to talk to me?”

Scotty turned his head on the pillow to peer at Magnus. He opened his mouth to ask how long he’d been down, and “Where’s Beth?” came out.

Magnus’s mouth twitched with amusement at the question.

“She is in her room. We thought it best to separate the two of you after you both had fits when you saw each other the last time,” he answered easily. “I just came from there and she is doing well. She was burned worse than you, but seems to be healing quicker. Must be because she is younger,” he taunted him.

Scotty scowled at him for the attempt to insult him, and sat up abruptly in bed, happy to find there was no weakness or trembling this time as he shifted his feet to the floor and stood. He was wearing one of those horrible hospital gowns, though, he noted with a grimace.

“You should not be out of bed, my friend,” Magnus said, standing to move to his side. “You are not finished healing. Rachel will give you hell if she catches you.”

“Who the devil is Rachel?” Scotty asked, but had a vague recollection of what he thought had been a dream. Some woman telling him her name was Rachel Argeneau, and she was his doctor. If he recalled correctly, she had ordered him to rest.

“She’s the doctor who has been nursing you back to health,” Magnus said easily as Scotty started around the bed toward the closet. Scotty had reached and opened the closet door when Magnus announced, “She found you most difficult, and said it was patients like you that made her decide to work with the dead in the morgue rather than live patients.”

“The morgue?” Scotty turned on him with horror. “Ye had a mortician doctoring me?”

Magnus shrugged. “Well, she was the only one available and beggars cannot be choosers. Besides, the nanos really do all the work.”

“You’d best not let my wife hear you say that. Hell, I’m offended to hear it myself.”

Scotty had just turned back to the open closet door, but at that comment, swiveled to glance at the man in the doorway. He raised his eyebrows as he took in his slim build, dirty-blond hair, and silver-blue eyes.

“This is Etienne Argeneau,” Magnus announced. “He is Rachel’s life mate and husband.”

“That I am,” Etienne said mildly, and then eyed Scotty and said, “And you’re Cullen MacDonald, the patient who has kept my wife busy for the last three nights and two days trying to keep you asleep and comfortable while you healed.”

“Hmm,” Magnus murmured. “That is true. She had a devil of a time keeping you under. You would wake up screaming, or get up and try to walk around. She had us put you in restraints at one point. Those tranquilizers they developed do not work well on you at all.”

“No,” Scotty admitted, turning to the closet to pull out a pair of black jeans. “I was shot with three of them my first day here and wasn’t out for long.”

“How long?” Donny asked, making his arrival known. The younger immortal narrowed his eyes on Scotty as he entered the room to stand next to Etienne. “You weren’t awake when I dragged you to the SUV and hefted you into it, were you? Because you could have saved me a lot of trouble if you’d just let me know you were awake and could walk.”

“Aye,” Scotty agreed with an evil smile as he dragged his jeans on and did them up. “But then I wouldn’t have been able to listen to the conversation ye had with Beth on the way to the house.”

“Hear anything interesting?” Magnus asked with amusement.

“Just Donny being a wee clipe, and Beth saying she thinks I hate her,” Scotty admitted as he removed the hospital gown and turned back to the closet to search for a shirt. He’d hoped to hear more, but Beth had turned the conversation to the boy rather than talk about herself.

“What’s a clipe?” Donny asked with a frown.

“A tattletale,” Magnus informed him.

“I don’t tattle,” Donny protested.

“Ye told her I was speeding to get to her,” Scotty pointed out, shrugging into a white linen shirt.

“Well, yeah, but to prove you didn’t hate her, not to get you in trouble,” Donny pointed out.

“Hmm,” Scotty muttered as he finished doing up his buttons. Glancing to Magnus then, he raised an eyebrow. “Where’s Beth?”

“I told you, she’s in her room,” Magnus answered.

“Aye, but where is that?” Scotty asked impatiently.

“Oh, you do not know,” Magnus realized and stood up. “Well, I can take you there, but you might give her nightmares.”

“What?” Scotty asked with surprise. “Why?”

“Try looking in a mirror and see for yourself,” Magnus said dryly.

Scotty hesitated, worry coursing through him when he noted the pity on Donny’s and Etienne’s faces. Frowning, he turned and walked into the bathroom and then closed the door. He could have just looked in the dresser mirror, but he wasn’t sure what to expect, and would rather see what was what while on his own.

“God Almighty,” Scotty breathed when he flicked on the light and saw his reflection. His long hair was gone, his scalp a mass of scars and still healing raw skin, and his face . . . He didn’t even recognize himself. The skin was the same mess as his head. It just looked like his scalp had slipped down to cover his face. His eyes were alarming too, a solid silver as the nanos tried to repair what the flames had apparently done.

Scotty peered down at his hands now, noting the same knotted skin there, and wondered that he hadn’t noticed it while he was dressing. He supposed he’d been distracted by so much company. Now that he was thinking about it, though, Scotty couldn’t believe he wasn’t in agony. Weren’t the nanos working to heal him even now?

A knock at the door drew his attention, and after a hesitation he said, “Come in.”

Magnus stepped inside and smiled at him sympathetically as he closed the door.

“Rachel thinks the tranquilizer works differently on you,” he said, meeting Scotty’s gaze in the mirror. “That for some reason your nanos fixate on flushing those from your system, rather than tending to anything else. So that when she gives them to you, the healing stops . . . which is why you are not presently unconscious. She thought it would be better for you to heal.”

Scotty let out a little breath of relief. “So it will heal?”

Magnus nodded, and then warned, “But once the nanos finish flushing the tranquilizer and set back to work on your skin, you will be in agony again.”

Scotty nodded, and asked, “How long until that happens?”

Magnus shrugged helplessly. “I would not guess it would be too long from now. After all, you are awake, so the worst of the tranquilizer must already be flushed from your system.”

Mouth firming determinedly, Scotty turned and opened the bathroom door. “Show me where Beth’s room is. I want to see that she’s all right before . . .” He didn’t bother finishing. They both knew he meant before the healing set in and he was in agony once more.

Donny and Etienne were gone when Scotty stepped back into his room. He wondered briefly where they’d gone, but didn’t ask. He merely followed Magnus into the hall. It turned out that Beth’s room was just across the hall and down a room. The door was open, and Magnus stepped up to peer inside, then relaxed and gestured him over.

Scotty moved beside him and peered cautiously around the door frame. This was where Donny and Etienne had gone, he saw. And it was why Magnus had relaxed. The two men made something of a screen, blocking him from being seen by anyone in the room, and, in turn, blocking Beth from his view. He could hear her speaking, though, and she sounded just fine other than her voice being a touch husky. Probably from the smoke she’d inhaled, or maybe the flames, or possibly even from screaming. It was hard to say without seeing her.

“You had sisters?” he heard a woman ask, and supposed it was this Rachel, the doctor and Etienne’s wife.

“Two. One older and one younger,” Beth answered, her voice soft with affection, and then on a chuckle she added, “I was the dreaded middle child.”

“Oh, God, the middle child is always trouble! All the magazines say so,” Rachel teased with a laugh. “What were your sisters’ names?”

“Ella was the older one,” Beth answered, and then added sadly, “She died of the ague when I was nine. Mom tried everything to save her—hot compresses, cold compresses, all the medicines she could get her hands on, but . . .”

“Ague was what they called fevers, right?” Rachel asked curiously. “I know it could be malaria at times too, but they also called anything with fever that, didn’t they?”

“Aye,” Beth admitted. “They just came on one day, fever and chills. She got hotter and weaker . . . Ella was fair burning up, but nothing would stop it. Ma even tried leeches.” She was silent for a minute and Scotty waited, thinking that her accent became thicker and her speech more antiquated when she spoke of the past. He’d noticed it happened when she was upset too.

“Ella used to act as barker for our mom at market,” Beth said suddenly. “She had such a clear beautiful voice. It was almost like singing.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what a barker is,” Rachel admitted.

“A barker calls out about the pies, selling them.” Beth paused briefly and then sang out, “‘Pies! Fine, fresh penny pies! Won’t you buy some pies, sir! A pie for a penny! Please, sir, won’t you buy the pies!’” She ended on a chuckle and then admitted, “I took over when Ella died, but I was never as good as her.”

“And your younger sister?” Rachel asked. “What was her name?”

“Little Ruthie,” Beth answered, affection clear in her voice. “She was a good one. Used to nap at Mom’s feet most of the time at market. Didn’t fuss and such as a babe. And stayed close when she got talking gibberish and toddling around.”

“Your mom took you all to the market?” Rachel asked with surprise.

“Aye, from the earliest I can remember. There weren’t day care then,” Beth said wryly. “So aye, Mom took us. We helped sell the pies. Helped make ’em too.”

Scotty leaned against the door frame as he listened, enjoying the almost lyrical sound of her voice and the happiness he heard in it.

“Penny pies, they were. The best in London. Everyone said so,” Beth added proudly.

“And your father?” Rachel asked. “What did he do?”

“Drank, mostly.” Her voice was cold now and completely devoid of emotion. “He was a drunkard. Beat me mom to get the coin from her for the day’s sales and then drank all night and slept the day away. He was a mean drunk too. Mom tried to shield us, but couldn’t always, and we learned to move quick when he started his fists in swinging.”

Scotty frowned at the picture she was drawing of her childhood. He’d seen enough men like Beth’s father to know how it would have gone. Her father would have been unpredictable, laughing and teasing one minute and then in a rage the next. With a father like that the day could go from good to bad in a heartbeat, and it was impossible to know when it would happen. It left the family in a perpetual state of crisis. They might be smiling and seeming to enjoy something on the outside, but inside they were always on the alert for that change, always on the verge of fight-or-flight.

“I’m sorry,” Rachel said with sincerity.

“What?” Beth sounded surprised. “Don’t be. It was a long time ago. Besides, I may have lost in the father category, but me mom was a wonderful woman. Loving, and kind. She taught me to work hard and be kind to others. I don’t know how many times she said to me, ‘Never look down on others, Bethie, until ye’ve walked a mile in their shoes,’ and ‘Work hard, Bethie, and make yer own way. Don’t depend on some worthless man to do it. They’ll sore disappoint ye.’”

After a pause, Beth added, “She taught by example too. No one worked harder than me mom. We’d get home from market, and she’d start right into making the pies for the next day, even while making us dinner and such. After we ate, I’d help with making the filling for the penny pies while she concentrated on the pastry, but then she’d send us girls to bed while she worked well into the night. Come morning, Mom’d be up before all of us, firing the stove and starting in baking the pies we’d made the night before.

“That was the secret to why her pies were so popular,” Beth assured her. “Others baked them the night before, putting the first batch in while they made the second batch and so on, so they were already a day old by the time they got to market. But Mom wouldn’t do that. She baked them all that morning, so they’d still be warm and fresh when we got them to market.”

“When did she sleep?” Rachel asked with amazement.

“Truth is, I wondered that myself sometimes,” Beth admitted on a chuckle. “But there was a morning or two I caught her napping against the stove while the pies baked, so I know she did get some sleep.”

“What was the market like back then?” Rachel asked with interest. “Was it in an enclosed space, or—?”

“They were starting to build those big enclosed markets then, but Tottenham were still just stalls and stands on either side of the lane, and that were us,” Beth said.

Etienne shifted slightly, and for a moment, Scotty was able to see Beth. The fire had taken her hair too, but her head was already healed, and her beautiful red hair had grown back a quarter inch or more. Oddly enough, she looked lovely even without the long, rich red locks. Unlike his, her face was healed, and she looked adorable and somehow innocent and sweet as if the fire had burned her sins away.

“I used to love the market. I worked hard, but had friends there too, and on warm beautiful summer days it was great fun. However—” She paused, and he saw her grimace and give a shudder before Etienne shifted again, blocking her from view once more as she continued, “Winter was a different story. It was something awful then. So cold ye were sure yer toes and fingers’d fall off, and ye hardly sold anything anyway on those days. Those penny pies could be fresh from the oven, but by the time we got them to market they were frozen solid.”

“So,” Rachel asked, “when you grew up did you bake penny pies and sell them at market too? Like your mother?”

There was a brief silence, and Scotty found himself clenching his fingers as he waited for her response, and then she finally said, “Nay. The cholera took me ma and Little Ruthie when I was ten. I don’t know why I didn’t get it,” she added. “I ate the same food as them, drank the same drinks and went all the same places. I even nursed them when they fell ill, but never got it.” She paused briefly and then continued, “Unfortunately, while I’d helped with making the filling ere that, Ma never got around to teaching me to make the pastry. When they passed, I tried to take over making the pies, but . . .”

Scotty heard her give a small laugh before she admitted, “I fear ye could have hammered nails with me pies. The pastry was that hard. Course, the first day everyone was expecting me ma’s usual fine fare so bought up all me pretty pies right quick. They’d missed them while me ma and Ruthie were sick and I was nursing ’em. The second day I took pies to market, they must have thought that first day’s offerings were just a one-time mistake, or mayhap they were bought up by people who hadn’t bought any of the ones the day before, but most of the second day’s offerings sold too. But by the third day, I hardly sold any at all. I guess I was not made to be me mother.”

Scotty waited tensely then, expecting Rachel to ask what she’d done then, but the question never came. Instead, Etienne’s wife said, “You’re looking a bit pale, Beth. I think we should give you some more blood and let you sleep.”

“So are you,” Magnus murmured at Scotty’s side. “Are you in pain? Are the nanos starting into healing again?”

Scotty hesitated, but then nodded grimly. The pain had started several minutes ago, but he’d wanted to hear about Beth’s childhood. It hadn’t been what he’d expected. While he wasn’t surprised at the kind of father she’d had, what she’d said about her mother had been a revelation. In truth, it sounded like she had a childhood similar to his own in some ways. Oh, certainly, there had been a lot of differences. He was raised a laird’s heir, while she’d been the child of poor parents, scratching out a living. But Scotty had had a good and kind father and a vicious, mean whore for a mother, while Beth had had a good, kind mother and a vicious, violent drunkard for a father. They’d each had one good parent and one bad.

Scotty didn’t protest when Magnus urged him back to his room. He went quietly, his thoughts in turmoil.

“Should I leave you to rest?” Magnus asked as he ushered him into his room. “Or are you well enough to talk about what to do about Beth?”

“What do you mean, do about her?” Scotty asked with a frown.

“To protect her,” he explained. “This latest attack proves the one in Vancouver was not a one-off. Someone is out to get her.”

“The fire at the barn was an attack on Beth?” Scotty paused at the side of the bed and turned to face him, alarm rushing through him and briefly displacing the pain that had begun to eat at him.

“Of course! You do not know,” Magnus said, sounding irritated with himself. “Sit down and I’ll tell you what happened.”

Scotty hesitated, but then dropped to sit on the bed and waited.

It seemed to Beth that she barely drifted off to sleep when arguing voices brought her back awake. Scowling, she opened her eyes and glanced around the dark room. No one appeared to be there with her. The voices were coming from the hallway.

“I agree. Someone needs to watch her. But not you,” she heard Magnus say. “You need to heal, Scotty. You are a bloody mess at the moment. You will scare the girl half to death if you go in there looking like that.”

Beth’s eyebrows rose and she wondered what he meant by it. Scotty was a mess? Why? Had he been hurt? No one had mentioned that when she’d woken up.

Frowning, Beth sat up and pushed the sheets and blankets aside to get out of bed. Much to her relief, the room didn’t spin around her and she didn’t sway on trembling legs. She was done healing for the most part, and Rachel said she just needed a good night’s rest as the nanos finished the work inside her and she’d be good as new. The fact that she was no longer suffering pain had made Beth think that the healing must be over. However, Rachel said her pallor and the continued need for extra blood suggested otherwise. The nanos were still working inside, just on things that apparently didn’t hurt. Perhaps even only on rebuilding their forces, but whatever the case, she should take the opportunity to rest to help them along, rather than slow their progress by giving them more work.

“Scotty, listen to me,” Magnus said now. “Donny, Etienne, Mortimer, and I will take turns sitting with Beth. We will keep her safe. What you need to do now is concentrate on healing.”

“I listened to ye the last time and look what happened,” Scotty shot back. “She’d be fine, ye insisted. She’d have Kira and her bodyguards there with her to keep her safe, ye assured me. Besides, whoever attacked her in Vancouver wasn’t likely to follow her back to Toronto, ye said. And now look! She barely escaped having her head cut off, and was damned near burned to death.”

“I know. I was wrong,” Magnus said soothingly. “I will not make the same mistake twice, though. Obviously whoever attacked her in Vancouver has followed her back here. We will keep an eye on her now and we will look into who it could be. I am just saying that you should concentrate on healing yourself. Just for the next twenty-four hours. The worst of your healing should be over by then and you can—”

“I can heal and watch her too,” Scotty growled, turning away from Magnus and toward her door just as she opened it.

They both froze. Beth noted that Scotty was scowling at her as if expecting her to try to send him away, but she was too busy taking in the ruin of his face and head to do so.

His hair, that long, beautiful hair she’d tangled her hands in and pulled as he loved her, was gone. In its place was a charred mess. It was how she imagined a scorched earth would look from space. But that wasn’t even the worst of it. His face too was charred, but the healing had started there so that strips of flaking black skin were interspersed with ribbons of raised, red, ridged scars.

“It’ll heal,” he growled and Beth shifted her eyes to his, blinking as she noted the solid silver staring back. The nanos were obviously hard at work there, repairing whatever damage the fire had done. At least, she assumed it was fire, although she had no idea how he’d been burned. She’d got out of the fire on her own. Beth remembered that much. Reaching out, she gently touched a section of his face that was already scarred and shouldn’t hurt and asked in a soft voice, “How?”

Scotty raised a hand to cover hers and she just managed not to flinch at the mess it was. Dear God, the pain he must be in, she thought weakly.

“He tackled you when you came running out of the barn on fire,” Magnus explained when Scotty remained silent. “He rolled on the ground with you, trying to put out the flames.”

That made Beth frown, and she glanced to the man and asked, “But why isn’t he healing?”

“He is. But apparently where the tranquilizers simply help get others through the pain of healing and the nanos ignore it until they have finished their work, with Scotty the nanos turn all their efforts to removing the drug from his system first and then return to the healing. So the tranquilizer just slows his healing.”

“I think he must be allergic to the tranquilizer,” Rachel announced, approaching from the stairs. “And highly allergic at that. The nanos in him react as if they’re removing a life-threatening poison and turn all their attention to getting it out of him. Thus slowing his healing.”

Beth nodded solemnly, and then turned her hand in his to clasp it gently.

“He can stay with me if it makes him feel better,” she announced and tugged him into her room.

Beth wasn’t surprised when Magnus and Rachel followed, but she simply led Scotty to the bed, urged him into it and tucked him in. She noticed the wide-eyed way he was looking at her as she did it, but ignored that and simply walked around the bed to climb in next to him. She didn’t lie down, however, but sat up against the headboard and pulled the blankets up to cover the pale blue hospital gown she wore. Beth then peered from Rachel to Magnus expectantly. “So, you think it was another attack directed at me?”

The pair exchanged a glance, and then Magnus asked, “Do you disagree?”

Beth considered it briefly. “It was definitely a trap, and a well-thought-out one. If I hadn’t noticed the new nails sticking out of the wood of the barn as we approached, I might have walked straight in to take a look around when I saw that it appeared empty. We probably all would have.”

Magnus nodded solemnly.

“But I don’t see how it could have been directed at me specifically,” she continued. “I’m not the only Rogue Hunter working for Mortimer. In fact, he has more people to call on right now than he did before you and the others came from England. Any one of us could have walked into that trap.”

There was silence for a minute, and then Kira said from the door, “Except it appeared to be a joke job. That is what you call it, da? The joke job?”

“Da,” Beth admitted reluctantly, watching the other woman enter. It was the first time the Russian had visited since she’d woken up, although she’d been told Kira had refused to leave her bedside the first night, insisting on staying to watch over her.

“So,” Kira continued, “if this person knows you are stuck with me, going only to the joke job, then they know is likely you will be assigned barn.”

“She’s right,” Scotty said grimly. “Yer team is the only one that would’ve been sent to that barn.”

“But who could have known that?” Beth asked with a frown.

“Pretty much every Enforcer working for me right now knows that,” Mortimer said, entering the room as well. Pausing, he glanced around at the people in the room, and raised his eyebrows. “You could have let me know there was going to be a meeting about this.”

“It was not planned,” Magnus assured him.

Mortimer grunted at that, and then rubbed the back of his neck before saying, “So, here is our problem. That accident on the highway appears to have been deliberate. The driver had been controlled. However, we do not think it can be connected to the attack in Vancouver, because whoever set up the car accident could not have followed you to Vancouver, and none of the Enforcers—who were the only people who could know you were out there—were in Vancouver, except for you three. However, now there has been another attack here, a very well-planned attack. But the only people who could know you would be the one sent to the barn are our people.” He raised his eyebrows at her. “Do you have any idea what the hell is going on?”

Beth shook her head solemnly. “Sorry. No.”

Mortimer grimaced, but nodded. “I did not think so, but was hoping.”

“Each attack was pre-planned,” Scotty said now, the words coming through clenched teeth.

Beth was aware that she wasn’t the only one to look at him. Everyone was watching him now, waiting for him to continue, and probably noticing—like her—that he was obviously suffering. The man was extremely pale. He was also sweating as he struggled with the pain of healing. And there wasn’t a damned thing they could do to help him if he was allergic to the tranquilizers.

“At least somewhat,” he added with a frown. “The first one could have been a case of opportunity. The immortal behind this could ha’e been followin’ Beth, spotted the truck pullin’ girders as it drove onto the highway and then simply took control o’ the driver and caused the accident. But the second one . . .” He glanced to Beth. “The mortal was taken control of and sent into the ladies’ room to lure ye out to the alley where the immortal was waitin’ with a sword. That took a little more plannin’.”

“And the last one was all plan,” Beth continued for him. “The barn was set with traps, the call was made to bring someone out, presumably me, and then . . .” She shrugged and raised her eyebrows. “What does that mean?”

Scotty closed his eyes. His hands and jaw were clenched, and Beth was sure she could see a difference in him. To her it looked like there was less black on his head and face, and more red, wet, raw skin.

“I do no’ ken,” he said at last on an expelled breath and shook his head on the pillow. “I think it means something, but I can no’ think just now.”

Everyone was silent for a moment, and then Magnus said, “Well, perhaps we should all take some time and think about it. In the meantime, you need to rest and heal, Scotty.”

“What we need to do is place guards on Beth,” Scotty countered, his voice rough with pain. “She is never to be alone. She is to go on no more hunts. In fact, she should no’ leave this house until we sort out who is after her and catch them.”

Beth had to bite her tongue to keep from protesting. She really, really wanted to, and if Scotty were his normal strong, healthy self, she would. But he wasn’t. Scotty was in no shape to argue. He was in a bad way, and it was all thanks to her. To his trying to save her. Beth shook her head slightly, still finding it hard to believe he’d done that. She truly didn’t understand the man. Nothing he did made sense to her. He didn’t want her, but he risked himself to save her. Because there was nothing riskier to an immortal than fire. It was like putting a match to pure alcohol. Whoosh, up they went. It was amazing they were both still alive.

“My bodyguards and I will help guard Beth,” Kira offered, although the word offered was something of a misnomer. The Russian’s offer was actually more of an announcement . . . as usual, Beth thought with amusement, and smiled at the woman as she commented, “You don’t appear angry about being sent on joke jobs.”

Kira shrugged. “I am new one. New always starts at bottom. Is how you learn . . . and I am learning,” she added solemnly.

Magnus smiled faintly. “And what have you learned . . . besides not to throw yourself on a burning immortal?” he added dryly.

“A lot,” Kira assured him, and then glanced at Beth and praised her. “You are good teacher. At barn I learn never to rush in. To be patient, like you. And to be cautious, and see everything. You saw both traps before they were sprung.”

“Not soon enough,” Beth said unhappily. “I should have considered that there might be a second lever where Oksana fell that acted as a secondary trip for another trap once her weight was taken off. As Liliya said, everyone would rush in to help the downed person, and that is when the second trap could do the most damage.”

Kira shook her head. “You cannot know everything.”

“Still, I’m sorry about Oksana,” Beth said solemnly. The first thing she’d asked about on waking the first time was how the Russian had fared. She already knew that Liliya had dropped the Russian Amazon’s upper body when the explosion knocked her to the ground, and that she was dazed and confused when Rickart reached her and carried her out. Liliya hadn’t recalled about Oksana’s upper body until it was too late. Only the woman’s lower body and lower arms had survived the fire, and her lower body had got pretty charred along with Beth . . . and Scotty, she added silently, glancing to the man in bed next to her. His eyes were tightly closed, his face a rictus of agony.

“Da, that was bad,” Kira said, drawing her attention again as she admitted, “I no like Oksana. Was hoping for excuse to send her ass back, but not just ass.”

A wholly inappropriate giggle tried to slip out of Beth, and she had to cover her mouth to hold it back. There was nothing funny about any of this. The woman was dead.

“Right,” Mortimer said suddenly, straightening. “Rachel, do whatever you came up here to do. The rest of us will clear out,” he announced and then added, “Magnus, I need you and Kira to come to my office.”