On the Edge

TWO hours later, Rose sank onto the porch steps, her phone next to her. Her feet ached. She used the time it took her to cover four miles from the Clean-n-Bright office to her house to search for a new job. She had exhausted every lead and called in every favor. Nobody was hiring. Nobody expected to hire anytime soon.

Rose experienced her first pang of fear. She had no way to provide for the children.

She had always worked. Ever since Dad left and even before that, she had always provided for them. They weren't rich, but the kids never went hungry. What could she do now? She had no reserve. What little jewelry Mom had was long gone - it went into the truck. First, the transmission went, then the muffler, then the belts . . . There was always something wrong with it, something requiring another injection of cash.

The junk in the attic would bring them nothing. She had tried to sell it before, at a swap meet and at a yard sale, but hardly anyone bought a thing. She'd made a total of seven dollars and twelve cents.

There was a spot in town in front of a small fried chicken joint, where a truck stopped every morning to pick up laborers. They were paid cash. She drove past them on her way to work: men, mostly Latino, chatting in Spanish. Before she had this job, she even tried waiting with them, but the truck driver explained to her that they didn't want women. They wanted men, who could clear away the brush and do construction.

The only reason Emerson had hired her in the first place was because he and her father had been buddies when they were young. But now with Dad gone . . .

She still had the doubloon. By now the news of her firing would have spread, and Max Taylor would know she was desperate. He'd charge her an arm and a leg to convert the doubloon into cash. Her chances might be better with Peter at Parallel Universe. He charged a steeper fee, but he never haggled and never tried to pull a fast one. The doubloon would bring in enough money for a couple of weeks. She'd just have to borrow the money for gas, drive out there, and hope she could work it out with one of them.

And then what?

Maybe she could just leave. Take the kids, use what money she made off Declan's gold, and just go. The Edge was narrow but long: it wrapped the junction of the two worlds like a ribbon. There were other settlements, bigger than East Laporte. There had to be jobs there. But at least here she had the house. Anywhere else, she'd have to pay rent . . .

The sound of approaching footsteps tore her from her thoughts. A long-legged, lanky man strode down the path. The sun played on his reddish hair. She would've known that red anywhere. Rob Simoen. His father had hired Brad to kidnap her all those years ago, so she could marry Rob and make a brood of powerful babies for the Simoens.

Rob came up and stopped at the ward stones. He had a bit of power. He flashed green, which wasn't too shabby for an Edger. He was older than she by three years and well off. He was also a first-rate asshole.

"Hi, Rose," he said.

She just looked at him.

"I heard you've lost your job."

Well, that was fast. "Came to gloat?"

He smiled. "Yeah, a bit. Did you hear? We at Simoen Chevrolet just got ourselves a new cleaning crew. Our offices will be all clean and bright."

Rose blinked as the picture snapped together in her head. "Your dad paid off Emerson to fire me."

"Something like that."

She frowned. "It's been four years. Why do you even care what I do?"

"Word is, you got a boyfriend, who's good with his fists. Actions have consequences, Rose. You see, Brad works for us. Odd jobs, mostly. We like to look after our people."

"How nice of you." She'd known Brad's beating would come to haunt her, but she'd no idea it would be this fast. They hit her where it hurt the most. Magic clung to her. Too bad Rob was too smart to start something.

"Getting Brad beat up wasn't a good move."

"I didn't get him beat up. Brad managed that all by his lonesome. So what does he do for you anyway? Brad isn't much good aside from his fists . . ." Rose didn't even try to keep her mouth from curving. "You use him as enforcer, don't you? To collect and repo your cars. I saw him calling on his cell right after he got his ass handed to him. Was that to you? Tell me, was his voice slurring a little? Because the last I saw him, your precious enforcer was curled up on the pavement in his own vomit, looking for his mommy. He must've jumped on that phone the second he could talk." She laughed. "Oh, that didn't look good for your dad, did it?"

The sugary expression slid from Rob's face. "Never you mind. Let's talk about you. How exactly are you going to feed those bastard brothers of yours?"

"None of your business."

"You know . . ." Rob frowned, pretending to be immersed in thought. "I've always fancied you."

Declan emerged from the brush and started toward Rob in a very determined fashion. He must have followed her this entire time. She wouldn't put it past him. He probably thought this was his chance to get into her good graces - his Icy Lordship, all poised for the rescue. She glanced at his face, and alarm shot through her. She always thought that seeing murder in someone's eyes was a figure of speech, but when she looked at Declan, she saw it crystal clear.

She crossed her arms and looked above Rob's head at Declan. "It's a bad idea."

Declan kept coming. He didn't walk, he stalked, huge and lethal and very angry.

"Oh no," Rob said. "It's a great idea. I'll make you a deal: you suck me off, and I'll see about getting you your old job back."

Oh, you sad, slimy bastard.

Muscles played along Declan's jaw. He would kill Rob if he got his hands on him.

"If you do this, I'll never speak to you again," she promised him.

Declan halted for a moment.

"Oh, I like it when you get mad," Rob said. "The way I look at it, my dad promised you to me four years ago, but I never got to have you. Like a Christmas present I never got to unwrap. I figure, I'm long overdue."

She had seconds to get rid of Rob. Rose faked a sigh. "You're right, Rob. I do need a job, and nobody seems to be hiring. I guess I've been chased into a corner."

"I'm glad you see it my way."

Declan resumed his march.

Rose smiled. "The thing about being in the corner is that now I've got nothing to lose. And I have this powerful urge, Rob. A very powerful urge to hurt somebody."

It took him a second. "You're getting ahead of yourself there, bitch."

"I think I'll start with you," she said. "You know, when I flashed Brad, he pissed all over himself. I think I'd like to see you wet your pants, Rob. And then I think I'll go over to your family home and see if your daddy wets his pants as good as you do."

"You wouldn't dare."

"What do I have to lose, you dimwit?" She laughed and began to rise from the steps.

Rob's mouth hung open. He turned and saw Declan, looming in his path. Rob went white as a sheet.

Rose resorted to the last weapon in her arsenal. "Declan, please don't hurt him."

Declan leaned an inch toward Rob. His voice was a low snarl. "Run."

Rob dashed down the path. He was never a good runner, but he cleared the stretch to the road at record speed.

"You shouldn't have stopped me." Declan stared after him. He looked like he was about to change his mind. No matter how fast Rob ran, Declan would catch him.

"I could've hurt Rob. First, I could've shot him." She reached into her tote and showed him her gun. "Second, I could've fried him with my flash. I didn't hurt him. I could've, but I didn't."

His eyes narrowed. "Why? Do you have feelings for him?"

"No! At least not the kind of feelings you're asking about."

"Then why?"

"It's kind of complicated. I'll explain it if you promise not to go off hunting Rob."

He mulled it over. "Very well." His tone made it plain that he was doing her a favor.

Rose did her best to disguise letting out a breath and sat in the grass on her side of the ward line. He sat cross-legged and looked at her. He was still wearing the jeans and the sweatshirt. The jeans hid most of his boots, and from his feet up to his neck, he should've looked like a man from the Broken. Should've but didn't. He held himself like a man who never rode in a crowded bus. His shoulders were too wide, his posture too forceful, and if he were to step into one of the busy malls of the Broken, people would probably trip over themselves to give him his space.

His hair added to the effect, but his eyes and his face were worst of all. Even when he was calm, like now, his eyes made you catch your breath. They were the eyes of a noble from the Weird, who expected to be obeyed and would enforce his orders without a moment's hesitation. Instead of looking like a native of the Broken, Declan ended up looking like a blueblood who had dressed up in otherworldly garb for Halloween.

And she had to explain the complex rules of the Edge to him. How would she ever find the words?

"In the Broken, when a man assaults a woman, the police are called," she said. "They review the evidence, and if there is enough of it, the man is taken into custody, charged with a crime, tried, and if found guilty, put away into a prison. What happens in the Weird?"

"In Adrianglia, a similar process," Declan said. "Sheriffs examine the evidence and take the guilty party into custody. If they fail to apprehend him, they call the headhunters, and if they fail, they call the Marshal. Someone like me."

She would definitely prefer the headhunters. It sounded ominous, but not as bad as he. "It's your job to apprehend criminals?"

"Only some. You have to do something remarkable to gain my attention. Please continue."

"Do you know what happens in the Edge?"

"I expect you'll enlighten me," he said.

"Nothing." She checked his face to see if it sank in, but it might have been a mask for all the good it did her. "In the Edge, there are no police, no marshals, sheriffs, or any kind of protection. There is no impartial third party. Instead, the entire community of East Laporte sits there and watches to see what will happen. Because there are so few of us, everyone knows everybody else and everything we do has consequences."

She took a deep breath. "If a woman gets assaulted, it's between her family and the family of her attacker. They might come to an agreement of some sort on restitution or punishment. Or they might spend the next few decades lying in wait with their guns trying to splatter each others' brains all over the local greenery. Nobody likes a feud. Feuds are messy: many families are related, and when a feud flares, all of East Laporte can go up in flames. Innocent people get hurt, and the trade suffers. A lot of us make a good chunk of our money from trading with the caravans from the Weird and then selling what we bartered in the Broken. If the caravans know there's a feud, they'll skip the town and visit someone else."

He nodded.

"We try not to feud. We try to be reasonable. That means that punishment has to fit the crime. Let's say a man tried to kidnap me. I would be within my rights to kill him, and I've done it before."

Declan gave her a probing look. "You've killed a person?"

"Twice. But only in self-defense. My father and grandfather did some killing to protect me, too. Nobody can get mad about that. Sure, relatives of people whom we killed hate us and will take pains to ruin my life if they get a chance, but public opinion is on my side. I was attacked, and anybody in my place would defend themselves. That's reasonable, right?"

"For the sake of argument, I suppose so."

"Now let's take Brad. I was only a kid. I thought I loved him. I came to him in the most difficult time of my life, hoping that he would be my shelter. My rock in the storm. And he tried to knock me out with a club and sell me to Rob's dad. I hate him. I hate him so much that when he's near, my hands curl into fists and I don't even know it. When you beat him bloody today, it was glorious."

The hard line of his mouth relaxed slightly. "Glorious?" he said.

She nodded. "I'll cherish the memory of him rolling around in his own puke for the rest of my life. But it cost me my job."

"I've heard," he said. "It wasn't my intent to make you lose your employment."

Rose waved her hand. "No need to be so modest. You planned it all out brilliantly - getting me fired, cutting off my only source of income, all the while positioning yourself as my hero and savior."

Declan's eyebrows came together. "That is brilliant. I wish I would've thought of it. Alas, I was simply being charitable to a fellow human being. Brad needed to talk. All I could do was lend him a willing ear."

Declan the Good Samaritan. She grinned. "You also generously lent him your fist."

"Well, you didn't expect me to slap him with an open hand. One simply doesn't." Declan smiled back. It was a genuine smile, and it transformed his face. Instead of a blueblood, in the space of a moment he became a man, a living breathing man, irresistibly handsome, and funny, and someone she wished she knew. The effect was shocking.

Rose looked at her feet, trying to hide her eyes before he saw her reaction. Which was the real Declan? That was the question.

"Back to Brad," she said. "When he hit me with a bat, I flashed at him. It was a low flash, and it didn't kill him, but it hurt him very badly. I still hear him screaming in my sleep. As far as the Edge is concerned, that particular crime has been punished. Now you've opened a new can of worms."

"But it was a glorious can," he reminded her.

She laughed in spite of herself and looked up at him. "Quite. Brad got his ass handed to him, and the Simoen family retaliated by making my job disappear. I don't blame you for it. Nobody could've predicted that my job would evaporate. But at the end of the day, I still have no way to feed my family."

"I'm sorry," he said.

"Thank you."

"It's like a complex mathematical equation," Declan said. "The balance must always remain at zero."

"It doesn't always. People get away with all sorts of things. But we do like to balance the books. People will give you a chance to settle things yourself, but if you go killing and maiming people left and right, pretty soon the entire town will pool its resources and take you down no matter how powerful you are. Let's go back to Rob. He's a worm, and propositioning me was a low thing to do. It was humiliating. I humiliated him in return. We're even, and what's best is Rob thinks that nobody knows about this but the three of us. He'll remember it and you, and he'll try to kick me if he gets an opportunity, but it's not like he was beaten in public and became the laughingstock of the Edge. If you go after him and pummel him into pulp, he'll have to retaliate. The Simoen family is large and wealthy. My family is very small. I shouldn't probably be telling you this, but all I have are my brothers and my grandmother."

"I deduced that," he said. "I know that you love your brothers and wouldn't rely on them for protection unless you had no choice."

"I think you understand now," she said. "I can't compete with the Simoens. My flash is very hot. But if you beat up Rob, I might never get a chance to use it. The Simoens might just shoot me from some tree and nobody would blame them."

"That's wrong," he said.

She shrugged. "It's the way things are done here. I appreciate you making an effort to understand. I know that it must be very odd to you, seeing as the bluebloods are the ultimate authority in the Weird."

"That's not strictly accurate. The law is the ultimate authority. We're simply better trained and educated to enforce it than most other people, but we're as bound by it as any other citizen."

"What does the law say about forcing a woman into marriage?" she asked.

"The law applies only to the citizens of the Weird, and you aren't one."

Ouch. Always on the outside looking in. Rose got up and brushed off her jeans. "Well, it's good then that you'll lose and head back home empty-handed."

"I won't lose," he said. "But from now on, I'll attempt to keep the social rules of the Edge in mind."

She blinked, surprised. Declan had more twists and turns than Rough Butt Creek, which ran through East Laporte. First, he saved Jack. She could rationalize that - after all, if he intended to marry her, it was in his best interest not to stand idle while her brother was torn to pieces. But then he rescued Amy and her children, and followed her into the Broken, and now he conceded he was out of his depth, something she thought would've shattered his icy bearing. "Why did you save Amy?" she asked him.

"Why wouldn't I? She was in trouble, and it was in my power to help her. That's what any reasonable person would do. Why did you? You were ready to be bait to save a child of Leanne, who, by her own admission, tormented you in childhood."

"That's different."

He leaned forward, interested. "How?"

Rose searched for words. She hadn't really given any thought to why she had done it. She had reacted on instinct. "He's just a boy," she said finally.

"And if it was Leanne in that room, trapped? Would you still have gone to save her?"

"Yes." How exactly did he turn the tables on her? She should be the one asking questions.

"Why?"

She pursed her lips. "Because nothing Leanne had done to me would be as awful as being torn apart alive by those creatures."

"It was brave of you," Declan said.

She didn't care what he thought, she told herself. His opinion didn't really matter.

"Let me stay with you," he said.

"Not in a million years." Declan, the blueblood, was dangerous. Declan, the human being, was ten times more so. "You really should stop trying to get into my bed, Declan. It won't happen."

"If I was trying to get into your bed, I'd do something along these lines."

In her short dating life, Rose had been hit with a few "come hither" stares, but Declan left them all in the dust. He focused on her to the exclusion of all else, not really staring, but gazing in fascination, as if he were pulling her onto a tightrope above a chasm and didn't care if they both plunged to their deaths as long as she came to him. It pierced her defenses, and Rose blushed, suddenly awkward and hyper-aware as if she were a teenager catching a boy looking at her and realizing for the first time that she was a woman.

"Rose," he said, as if tasting her name in his mouth. "Let me in."

She simply shook her head. It was all she could do.

"Shall I strip and try to entice you with my manly body?"

And just like that the spell was broken and she laughed. "It won't work, but if you do want to make a spectacle of yourself, who am I to stop you, Your Excellency?"

Declan sighed. " ' Your Excellency' is the proper form of address for an ambassador or a bishop of the Zoroastrian or Catholic faith, as they style themselves as ambassadors of their God's will. I'm neither a bishop nor an ambassador. When it comes to societal niceties, you're hopeless. But have no fear - I'll arrange for lessons. Lots and lots of etiquette lessons. Luckily, I have both money to hire the best teachers and patience to wait until you learn."

She bristled, and instantly his face snapped into that blueblood stone-hard expression.

"I'll get your things," she told him and turned.

"You work very hard, and you're too proud to take charity," he said. "I find it admirable. But there's a fine line between proud and unwise. As you pointed out, you're a single woman in charge of two boys. You're unemployed with no prospects of obtaining a new position, you're facing a danger of unknown magical origin, and you're ill equipped to deal with it. I need a place to stay. I'm willing to employ you as my hostess and will defend you and your brothers against this danger or any other for the duration of my stay. I have already sworn not to harm you and your family. You get money and a capable adult male under your roof, while I get a room and three meals a day. To turn me away is both foolish and irresponsible, and you're neither."

She stopped. He was right. "What do you get out of it?"

"As I've mentioned, I intensely dislike sleeping in a tent. But more importantly, I've made the trip into the Edge, and should I come back empty-handed, with wild stories of some phantom hounds that killed my bride-to-be, I'd be a laughingstock. I can't afford to lose you now. If you persist in this unwise course, I'll pitch my tent right here, in the spot where I stand, and I'll do my best to defend you regardless. However, my defense will be much less effective."

Of course. A purely mercenary reason. She had expected nothing else.

The children had to eat. Her grocery supplies consisted of three packs of Ramen noodles, six drumsticks, some rice, a few potatoes, half a container of bread crumbs, and a pound and a half of ground beef in the freezer. And he would protect them. They both knew she would accept his offer. Rose grasped at straws, trying to find some way not to feel as if the choice had been stripped away from her, but found none. Suddenly she was simply weary. "That's the other thing I don't quite understand about you. You're an earl. You have money. You're not ugly."

"I'm quite handsome, actually," he said.

Handsome was for ordinary mortals. She rolled her eyes. "And so modest, too. Why are you here trying to get me to marry you?"

"I'll tell you, if you let me in."

"How much are you willing to pay?" she asked.

"Our standard rate. A doubloon a day."

It was generous. More than generous - some families would put him up for a week for a single coin.

"Half a doubloon a day," she said.

"No, you see, the idea behind bargaining is that you ask for a larger amount."

Apparently, he understood sarcasm just fine. He just chose not to notice it, when it failed to suit him. "I know that you in the Weird think that all Edgers are swindlers. We aren't. I won't take more than what's fair, because I don't want to feel indebted to you. For your half-doubloon, you'll get the use of the bedroom and three decent meals a day, and your laundry done, should you need it. You'll get nothing else. I'm letting you under my roof, and I expect you to behave with respect toward me and my brothers. Should you breach this agreement, you'll immediately leave. Should I breach it, I'll refund all related money. Am I making myself clear?"

"Perfectly. Should I swear a blood oath?"

"No. Your word's sufficient."

He rose, picking up his sword. "You have it."

Rose removed the ward stones. He stepped inside.

"Suppose I offered you a carte blanche," he said.

"What does that mean?"

"You leave with me. I'll support you in a respectable style. I'll pay for the education of the boys. In return we'll share a bedroom."

"Respectable style?" She chewed on those words. Here was a contradiction if she ever saw one.

"Two, three hundred doubloons a month. Enough for a modest but comfortable life. Obviously, I would take care of your rent, tuition for the children, and extraordinary expenses."

"Obviously." She shook her head.

"Is that a yes or a no?"

She simply looked at him.

"I take it by your frigid countenance that it's a no," he said. "And more, you believe me to be an idiot for offering it to you."

"Even if you're not lying, even if you intend to do everything exactly the way you suggest, you asked me to become your whore. I don't have anything against women who chose that sort of life. But I'm not, nor will I ever be, one of those women. If you were to offer me a job, the type of job where I didn't have to earn the roof above my head by spreading my legs, I would consider it. But I don't really trust you farther than I can throw you, and since you're large and muscular, that wouldn't be very far. And I'm not positive it would be a good idea to depend on you for my livelihood anyway. I don't want your money, Declan. I'm not a beggar or a free-loader."

He was studying her, and she wondered if he really had meant the offer or if it was some sort of a test. Either way, he had her answer, and she meant every word.

"My money would let you leave this place."

"This place is my home. Would you do it if you were me?"

"No," he said immediately.

"Why do you think I would?"

A hint of a mordant smile tugged on the corners of his mouth. "I didn't think you would."

"Then why did you offer?"

"I wanted to know what you would say. I'm trying to learn more about you."

She spread her arms. "What you see is what you get."

His eyes sparked with green. "Is that a promise?"

God damn him. "I meant that I have no big secrets. Unlike you. Why are you shopping for a bride in the Edge?"

"I'll be thirty in a month. The covenant of our title requires me to marry before I turn thirty, or I won't inherit the domain."

"That's a bit ridiculous."

He nodded. "On that we're in complete agreement."

"So what prevented you from getting married in the Weird?"

"I'm afraid my reputation among my peers has been somewhat tarnished." He walked up the porch and held the door open for her.

"Why?"

"It became known that I had a rather fertile imagination, when it came to private activities."

She stared at him. "What sort of private activities?"

This time he did smile, and it turned his face wicked. "Disrobe, and I'll be happy to demonstrate."