On the Edge

ROSE waited inside Burger King. It was twenty past eleven, and the lunch crowd had yet to gather. She'd made it just in time - two minutes after she'd walked through the door, the Clean-n-Bright van, carrying Latoya, Teresa, and a couple of other women, rolled into the parking lot. They sat down to eat, and she sat down to think.

Rose shifted, trying to get comfortable in the concrete-hard chair. She had no appetite. Visions of terrifying bruise purple creatures kept flittering across her mind. She'd left the boys with Grandma, and ElEonore was no lightweight. Still, the anxiety ate at Rose. She regretted coming to work, but Emerson left her without a choice. She couldn't afford to have her check shredded.

Latoya swept by, carrying her tray. She was tall and looked taller, her body sharp and narrow-boned, all angles and long limbs. Her hair was thick and lustrous, falling down in curvy waves she'd bleached to platinum blond. The blond had worn off, and Latoya's waves had gained a slightly greenish tint. People called her Mophead, although never to her face. You messed with Latoya at your own peril.

"You want some food?"

"No." In a rush Rose had forgotten to make a lunch, and she had no money.

"Girl, you've got to eat!"

Rose shook her head. "I'm not hungry. Really."

Latoya turned to the counter, where tiny Juniper Kozlowski manned the register in her manager's uniform. "She won't eat, June."

Juniper bristled. "You come to my place, you have to eat, Rose."

"Thanks, I'm not hungry."

Latoya grimaced. "At least come sit with us."

"If I sit with you, you'll try to feed me." Rose smiled.

"Well, you have to eat!" Latoya grunted. "Look, don't worry about Emerson. He's an ass, but you're one of his best cleaners."

"I'm not worried," Rose lied. "Thank you for picking me up."

Latoya shook her head and sat at the bigger table to the left, with the rest of the Clean-n-Bright crew.

Rose looked out the window. She wasn't in the habit of feeling sorry for herself, but she had to admit that lately life just kept kicking her. First, the blueblood, then the hounds, and now, once her shift ended and she went back, she would have to fight Emerson for the money she had earned.

Of all these concerns, the blueblood and the beasts were most dire. The creatures did resemble hounds, lean demonic dogs from some awful nightmare. And they wanted magic. Their power fed on it. Was there some sort of purpose to their attacks? If they assaulted people at random, drawn to magic, then the four of them, the boys, Grandma, and she, would be their prime targets. The Draytons were among the most magical of the Edge families. Nothing that a blueblood like Declan would be impressed with, she was sure, but by Edger standards, they stood out. How would she protect the boys?

Rose felt a spike of panic and squished it down. First things first. She'd take the carcass of the dead hound to Grandma once her shift was over. Then they would go from there.

And then there was Declan. She had no clue how she would challenge him. What couldn't he do? What did the fairy-tale girls do in this situation? She strained, trying to remember. Most of the stories involved sorting rice from wheat and weaving gold cloth from straw. She wasn't sure if he could weave gold from straw but she wouldn't be surprised if he managed it somehow. No, it had to be something else. Something she knew for sure would work. Some challenge with a trick to it.

Declan's face surfaced in her memory. What an arrogant ass. She glanced at her uniform. So what if it was an ugly sack of unnatural color?

He'd said she was beautiful.

A man did tell her she was beautiful, wonderful, kind, and smart before. He even told her that he loved her and offered her a safe haven for the boys. And she believed him, right until the point she found out he planned to sell her off.

Declan was an enemy. A very odd kind of enemy, who saved small kids from monsters, tore roofs off houses with his flash explosions, and concerned himself with her safety. She had to keep reminding herself that he was the enemy, because the impact his presence had on her was staggering. It must be his size. Or maybe his sword. Or the unbelievable power of his flash. Or maybe all of the above . . .

Or the fact that he was incredibly handsome, and she had to keep iron control of herself to stop thinking about him. As far as she knew, he couldn't read her mind, but getting rid of him would prove much harder if he knew what went through her head this morning while he waved his sword around. She had to be adult about this: yes, he was hot and she was vulnerable. She got it out of her system this morning, and that would be the end of that.

His flash was something else. Most people tried to flash by holding their hand as a weapon and pushing the magic out of it. Unconsciously, they shaped the flash with subtle pressure into a form similar to their arm - a long ribbon - and it never occurred to them that it could take any other shape. But he'd managed a perfect half sphere. Rose still practiced with her flash every day if she could help it. It had become second nature to her, and she caught herself doing it without thinking, the way some people tapped their foot or fidgeted. But she'd never tried a half sphere before.

She'd figured out how Declan had done it a moment before he'd let it loose: he'd held the magic inside him, ratcheting the pressure higher and higher, and then dropped his guard on the front of his body completely and let it rip. The flash simply burst out of him, sweeping everything on its way. It was beautiful.

Rose had done it twice on her way to the boundary. Hers was much smaller in magnitude, a mere whisper compared to his roar, because she still had to walk and work afterward. But she knew she could do it, and when she poured enough power into it, her flash wave would be devastating.

Oh, she couldn't wait to show him. That would knock some of that blueblood haughtiness down a peg. She just needed a good opportunity.

He couldn't find lodging in the Edge. That was too funny. When did he learn to make pancakes? Maybe it was part of their blueblood tutoring: eight o'clock - swordplay, nine o'clock - archery, ten o'clock - pancake making . . .

Latoya said something from her table.

"Huh?"

"I said, what's his name?"

Rose frowned. "Whose name?"

"The guy you're mooning over."

"I'm not mooning!"

Latoya glanced at Teresa. The older woman nodded. "Mooning. Definitely."

Rose rolled her eyes and turned to the window. She wasn't mooning. She was planning strategy. Declan had to have a weak point. Somewhere. Everybody had a weak point.

He was arrogant. That was something. And he didn't know the Edge. She had to give him some sort of challenge that involved knowing the terrain, something that appeared deceptively easy, so easy he didn't try very hard until it was too late . . .

A man slid into the opposite chair. He had wide shoulders and green eyes, and he wore a Carolina Panthers ball cap on his head.

Rose stared in complete astonishment. A pair of worn-out jeans and a green sweatshirt toned him down a bit, but not nearly enough. She was aware of the shocked silence at the table next to her.

"What are you doing here?" she hissed.

"Perhaps I missed the sight of your lovely body," he said.

"What?"

Declan leaned closer. "My promise not to ravish you doesn't extend to this fine establishment, does it? As I recall, it's only valid under your roof. How could I pass on such an opportunity?"

"If you touch me, I'll hit you with this chair," she ground out.

"I had no idea you enjoyed rough courtship," he said with a straight face. "It was never my particular favorite, but I'll do my best to play along, provided I'll get you in the end."

Rose opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

"Would you like me to be quiet?" he asked.

"Yes!"

"If you kiss me, I promise to be quiet for a very long time."

The thought of him bending down and kissing her zinged through her brain, and she clenched her hands together under the table, grimly determined to hide it. "You have no sense at all, do you?"

"You're quite easy to rile up." He leaned back. "Your brother is right. You don't date."

In her mind she picked up the chair and hit him over the head with it. "What are you doing here?"

"I thought I might have a word with your employer," Declan said. "Amy mentioned that he decided not to pay you."

Amy shouldn't listen to other people's phone calls. "You'll do no such thing. How did you find me?"

"I followed you. You walk quickly, but I'm used to marching."

"You can't be out here. This is the Broken!"

"I'm aware of that," he said. "Crossing into it felt like my guts were being ripped out."

"You could've died."

He shrugged. "I doubt it. It hurt, but the pain passed."

She once saw a caravan master from the Weird try to cross into the Broken. He'd gotten upset over the prices and decided he'd go and get the Broken goods for himself, cutting out the Edger middlemen. Two steps into the nine-foot-wide boundary he went into convulsions. The Edgers let him hurt for about a minute or two and then came to get him. He didn't complain about the prices anymore after that. Declan's crossing must've been agony. She didn't quite know what to make of it.

"Where did you get the clothes?"

"Leanne gave them to me. She insisted, actually. She said my appearance might cause a, how did she put it, 'fainting epidemic.' "

Dear God.

Behind Declan the door swung open, and Brad Dillon sauntered into the Burger King. "Well, lookit here. Rose Drayton and her faggot boyfriend. We meet again." Brad's voice rang through the Burger King, and Rose found herself the focal point of ten stares. At the counter Juniper went white with fury.

Rose glared. First, Declan, now Brad. She just couldn't catch a break.

Brad slouched in the aisle, hand in the pockets of his jeans. "Wait. You're not the same guy, are you? You get around, Rose."

Declan glanced at him and looked back to her. "Who is he?"

"Nobody," Rose ground out, looking at Brad. "Are you following me now?"

"I saw your friend from across the street and couldn't help myself."

They'd had run-ins before, but he'd never followed up like this. For one, she knew where to find him - he still lived in his trailer in the Edge, where she was the strongest. For another, she never rose to the bait. But now he'd met William, decided he was easy pickings, and wandered over to harass him. Except Declan wasn't William.

"Piss off, Brad!" Latoya called from her table.

"Shut the fuck up, Mophead, before I come over there and make you swallow your teeth."

Declan's green eyes fixed on Rose. Brad couldn't see his face, but she could. It was merciless and so iced over it was nearly cruel. "This is Brad?"

Rose was too mad to answer.

"Do you want to keep talking to him?" Declan asked.

"No."

The blueblood rose. "Excuse me for a moment." He nodded to Brad. "Let's go chat."

Brad pulled his hands out of his pockets. "I'm always up for a chat."

They left the Burger King, heading to the left, Declan moving in unhurried strides and Brad ambling to the right of him. Rose stared after them, stunned. Now what?

At the counter Juniper waved her thin arms. "Rose, drive-through window! Come on!"

Rose jumped up and ran behind the counter, following Juniper to the back, Latoya at her heels. She ducked between the fryer and the wall and ran into a patch of freshly mopped tile.

"Careful, wet, wet!" Juniper yelled.

Rose's feet slid on the floor. She crashed into some boxes and scrambled to the window. The two men stood in back, past the drive-through lane. Juniper flipped the switch, and Rose heard Declan's voice, distorted by static.

"You want to talk, now's a good time," Declan said.

"Fu - "

The punch was so quick, Rose barely saw it. Brad stumbled back, clutching at his gut, shook his head, and lunged at Declan. "Sonova - "

Declan's fist caught him in the left side with a solid crunch. Brad stumbled to the side, wincing.

"Ouch," Latoya squeaked.

Brad whipped about. "I'll - "

Declan rammed his fist into Brad's solar plexus. Brad bent over. Spit dripped from his mouth in a long sticky strand. He clenched and vomited a gush of foamy liquid onto the asphalt.

"Eww. In my goddamn parking lot, too." Juniper skewed her face.

"That last one hurt a bit," Declan said. "Take it easy. You have time."

Brad made some hoarse noises and stumbled a few steps, still bent over. About ten seconds later, he finally straightened and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Ready?" Declan asked.

Brad raised his fists. "Motherfu - "

The punch took him off his feet. He curled on the ground, cradling his gut.

Declan leaned over him. "Done?"

Brad nodded, his face twisted.

"Okay. Anytime you want to speak to Rose, you let me know and we'll do this again. Understand?"

Brad nodded again.

Declan rose and headed to the entrance.

Rose ran back in a mad dash, sliding on the slick floor. By the time Declan reached the door, she was barring the doorway. "Let's go out for some fresh air."

"As you wish."

Brad chose that moment to stagger out from behind the Burger King, holding a cell phone to his ear. At the sight of them, his eyes went wide and he ducked behind the building.

A moment of vicious satisfaction claimed her, but Rose had no time to savor it. She grabbed Declan's arm and pulled him down the narrow sidewalk, away from Brad before he saw him and decided to finish what he started. "What are you doing?"

"Walking with you."

"You can't just come in and destroy my life!" She took a deep breath and forced herself to calm down. He was trying to help, and he'd done a lot for her. "I've known Brad for years. He has done people a lot of favors, the kind one doesn't forget. What happened between us happened long ago, and he was punished for it already. You just started a new war. He'll be gunning to get at me now."

"He's most welcome to try it," Declan said with a grim finality that promised painful things in Brad's future.

"You just don't understand. Just like with Amy's roof."

"What about Amy's roof?"

It's not that he was stupid. Quite the opposite: Declan was probably one of the smartest men she'd ever met. He simply had no idea how life worked in a small Edger town. It probably made no sense to someone not born here.

She stopped and met his gaze. "Declan, I appreciate what you're trying to do, but I don't need you to fight my battles. It would be wonderful if life was simple and your beating up Brad solved all my problems, but in reality, it will only bring me more trouble. Thank you, but please go away."

Declan's eyes studied her. "Very well, my lady."

He turned and walked off.

Rose watched him go and headed back to the restaurant. Brad's humiliation would come back to haunt her. She knew it would, but it was so worth it. She recalled him crawling on the asphalt and practically skipped.

Latoya thrust the Burger King's door open. "Your new boyfriend is a psycho killer!"

"No, he isn't. And he's not my - "

"I'm telling you he's a Navy SEAL or something. Or one of the commando ranger guys. You know the kind who survive in the woods by eating bugs and take down the whole camp of terrorists with a handgun and a small rock."

Rose shook her head.

"And he's a looker, too," Teresa added. "Just like the other guy."

Latoya's eyes lit up. "What other guy?"

EMERSON'S voice ricocheted from the walls of his small office, filling Rose's head with ringing. "You think you can just miss the morning, and I won't know about it?"

Rose held her temper in check and faced Emerson. A slight man of average height, he was balding and doe-eyed. Emerson came from an old local family. His grandfather sold insurance, his father had expanded the business, his younger brother still ran it, but Emerson had failed to make his mark. He was arrogant, condescending, and lost his temper easily, which made him a terrible salesman. When people bought insurance, they wanted to be reassured, and the only thing Emerson reassured them of was his own inflated ego.

He had called in a snarling rage about two hours after they left Burger King and demanded Latoya bring her back to his office at the end of the shift. Apparently so he could cause permanent damage to her hearing.

"What do you have to say for yourself?"

"There was some trouble at Amy Haire's house . . ."

"I don't give a fuck." He stared at her for a long moment, his nostrils flaring. "I'm not paying you for this week."

"Emerson!"

"What? Are you going to tell me it's illegal and I can't do it? Well, guess what. I just did."

Rose clenched her teeth. Emerson was always an ass, but this was going too far. "I haven't missed a day of work in two years!"

Emerson laughed. "You know what, I changed my mind. You're fired."

"Fired? What for?"

"For absenteeism. You want to complain? You go right ahead. Who the fuck will listen to you? You're an illegal, and I can do whatever the hell I want with you."

Her face grew hot. He opened his mouth to rant some more, saw the look in her eyes, and clamped his jaw shut.

"You do whatever lets you sleep at night, Emerson," she said evenly. "But don't ever come to the Edge when I can find out about it."

She turned, left the office, and kept walking through the hallway to the outside. Latoya was nowhere in sight, frightened off by Emerson's hysterics. Such was the Edge way: every family for themselves. Friend or not, Latoya wasn't about to let her own job go down in flames.

Rose paused on the curb, staring at Emerson's red Honda SUV with a vanity plate that read BOSSMAN. Bossman. What a joke.

She was numb. It hadn't hit her yet, she decided. It would eventually, and then she'd probably hide and cry somewhere.

Rose shouldered her bag and started walking.