The food was good. I ate until I couldn't take another bite. Afterward, I leaned back against the leather cushions, my coat draped next to me, and relaxed for the first time in what seemed like a lifetime.

My gaze kept going to Luke. There was little resemblance to the imposing figure I dealt with down in the storefront. Once upstairs, Luke seemed to relax. He hadn't said much while we ate, and now he sat back in his chair, finishing a bite of bread.

Every time I glanced his way, I found him looking at me with an openly inquisitive stare.

He was not what I expected. He didn't hide like the rest of his guild members. He was wearing a phoenix on his tank top. This was not a guy trying to keep to the shadows—he lived openly in a society that deeply despised his kind. Did he feel alienated? Did he have friends outside his guild?

And what about his sister, Darla? I wondered if she practiced the arts. She sat quietly, finishing off her meal. It was hard to tell if someone possessed magic just by looking at them. Was she also a death dealer? Would the Phoenix Guild initiate someone into magic so young?

I wondered how different her life was from mine. I had become a healer like my mother and her mother before her. The path to becoming a healer started at sixteen, but at that age I had only learned about plants and making elixirs, teas, and medicine. Mama hadn't allowed me to delve into the magics that went along with healing until I turned eighteen. My training in magic started officially a year ago, and, in that time, I'd learned as much as I could, as fast as I could.

No other career choice had ever entered my mind. It had always been assumed that I would follow in my family's footsteps and, honestly, I didn't have any regrets. I love working with plants, being out in the sunshine, my hands pushed into the dirt of Mother Earth. Growing fragile things with care and love, creating medicines to heal the sick, mixing potions, learning a craft passed down through generations—there was no part of being a healer that didn't make my heart swell with joy and make me leap out of bed every morning full of excitement. The world once seemed a place of endless possibilities.

But all of that was now behind me. The path before me was full of shadows and darkness. I was going to become a death dealer, and I didn't have the faintest idea what kind of lives they led.

I took a good look at my surroundings. I was in a studio apartment, but the space was enormous. A well-outfitted kitchen with granite counters and cherry cabinets stood at one side of the room. The middle area was arranged as a living room and office. The couch I was on sat against the wall on a large, patterned rug surrounded by two oversize chairs. To the right of the couch, in front of a row of tall windows, stood a desk with a laptop computer and printer. Next to the desk was a small row of black metal cabinets. On the other side of the room were three large partitions—walls that didn't quite make it all the way up to the ceiling. Bedrooms, I imagined.

"This is a nice place." It was an expensive place. Every piece of furniture and knickknack screamed money.

"It's our uncle's." Luke leaned forward and put his plate down on the old blue steamer trunk serving as a table for our meal. "Are you going to tell us what brought you here?"

"Good food, terrific soda—what's not to like?" My answer brought a scowl to his face. I was paying for his services—I wasn't about to fill him in on the details of my life. "My understanding is that your type of work comes with a certain assurance of anonymity. Like when you pay a shrink or a lawyer."

"Client confidentiality." He leaned back in his chair and took on a thoughtful expression.

"Exactly," I answered.

He watched me in silence for a few moments. "I would like to know who pointed you to our doorstep."

Again, with the questions.

"Someone who wishes to remain anonymous," I answered cautiously. Luke could keep asking questions, and I would keep being evasive. This might be a long couple of hours.

"A lot of people know the type of work we do, but most of them, I imagine, don't run in the same social circles as someone like you."

The way he said "social circles" made it clear it wasn't a compliment.

"And what would you know about the social circles I run in?" I demanded.

Luke took his time answering, his eyes scanning slowly over my appearance. "Let me guess: your father's a plumber, and your mother's a schoolteacher."

Actually, he couldn't have been further off the mark. I forced a smile onto my face. "Do you do fortunes? Are you going to tell me my horoscope next?"

"Not something I normally dabble in, but I could if you wanted me to." His eyes focused on me in a way I found disconcerting.

Darla spoke up, "Luke, stop being so rude."

"Why? What's she trying to hide?" Luke looked over at Darla, an amused expression on his face. "Does she have top-secret government information hidden away in the recesses of her mind?" He didn't wait for an answer, but instead got up from his chair and started clearing away the dishes.

"I'm the private 'no trespassing' type," I answered quietly to his retreating back.

He spun around so fast that my breath hitched in the back of my throat. He put the dishes down none too gently, and they rattled loudly as they hit the surface of the trunk. "What are you really doing here?"

I closed my hands around my now empty plastic cup, crushing it before taking a deep breath and relaxing my grip. This guy would not scare me off. I had food in my stomach and was feeling less shaky. I needed his help, and it would be best if I could get him to see me as strong and capable first.

I took a deliberately long pause before answering. "Paying you a lot of money."

He took a step toward me. "To learn the Death Arts?"

I could almost feel the wave of violence and intimidation wash over him. He clenched his fists and towered over me menacingly. Here I was in this stranger's apartment. No one knew where I was. At any moment, Luke could decide I was not worth the hassle and—what? Kill me? He already had my money. I'd paid him upfront like an idiot. I'd heard stories about his kind and most of them seemed outlandish, but I knew truth was buried within the tall tales. Anger I could handle, but not violence, not now, not after what happened. At the very thought of it, my stomach clenched.

I looked over at Darla. She was watching us, her expression sullen. So far, she'd shown me only kindness. She wouldn't let Luke hurt me; I was almost certain of it.

He glared down at me, and I tried to look confident and fearless, but I didn't trust my voice not to betray me, so I just stared at him.

"Colina, why did you come here? Why are you so desperate to learn the dark magics?" He demanded.

I forced myself to sit up. I used to have a backbone, and if there was ever a time to show it, it was now. I wouldn't tremble like a scared rabbit in front of this guy. I could feel the anger growing within me. I tried to hold onto the feeling, will it along, force the flames of it to warm my blood and fuel my words. "Why does it matter? I need to learn, and a friend told me that I could find someone here who would teach me."

My reaction didn't seem to surprise him. He'd been pushing, and I'd finally pushed back.

The anger abandoned me as suddenly as it had come. "Look, you guys seem pretty open about what you do. The shop even has a phoenix on its sign. It's not like you're hiding who you are."

"I'm not ashamed of what I am," Luke said.

"A lot of people don't share that view," I said quietly.

His eyes narrowed. "Are you one of them?"

I slumped back against the pillows. "I'm the live and let live type."

His face softened, and he took a step back. "A healer."

"I told you I was." I was so tired, so sick of all the questions. All I wanted to do was go somewhere safe, somewhere I could try and get some rest.

"But not now?" He asked.

Why did he keep pushing? When I put down the crushed cup, my hands were openly trembling. "Not anymore."

"I've never heard of one of your kind walking away from the calling." His voice was softer now, less demanding.

I was anxious to change the subject. "You said the Triads are out in the streets causing havoc. Do they do that a lot?" I knew the Triads were one of the largest street gangs in the city. They're mostly mage-born, many of them vicious human beings. Part mage and a whole lot of natural-born killer types—a deadly combination any way you look at it.

"Recently more than usual," he said.

I looked towards the windows. "So it's not safe for me out there yet?"

"No," he answered.

My eyes swung back his way. His dark eyes were watching me. Once again, I felt like a puzzle he was trying to solve. "I could pay you to be my bodyguard and escort me home."

He shook his head. "It's not safe for even the likes of me out there these days."

Now that was something. I had never heard of a death dealer being afraid of anything. They're what I consider the top of the magic food chain—the hardest of the mage-born to kill.

He looked towards his sister and then back at me. "It's getting late. The streets are dangerous, and you don't look like you're up to fighting off trouble at the moment."

I couldn't keep the surprise out of my voice. "And you're proposing what? I should bunk down here tonight?"

He made a sweeping gesture with his arm that took in his sister. "We are offering a place of refuge."

Darla got up, walked over, sat down next to me, and patted my hand as if trying to offer some kind of comfort. "We're about the same size. I have some sweatpants and a T-shirt I could lend you. Luke's right, it's not safe out there. You should stay with us."

It had been a long time since anyone had offered to help me. I wanted to say no, but it would be foolish to go out and risk my life.

I moved my hand away but gave her a smile so she wouldn't be offended. "I'll take you up on the clothes, but what I could really go for right now is a hot shower."

She gave me a smile and got up. She disappeared through one of the doors and came back, hands full of folded clothes. She handed them to me and then pointed across the room. "The bathroom's over there. You can find clean towels in the cupboard."

I walked over, clothes in hand, and opened the bathroom door. The tub was an old-fashioned one. It had a metal circle at the top that held a white and black polka dot shower curtain. A handheld showerhead hung from a long, retractable metal coil.

I slumped down on the side of the bathtub and wondered if I had the energy to take a shower. The hot water would feel good against my skin. It might clean away the dirt, but what about the guilt? Could it wash that away?

I forced my body up and got undressed. If I had any sense, I would get out of here, but I knew I couldn't. Not yet, not until I got what I needed. I looked in the mirror and shook down my hair. Now free, it came to rest on my shoulders in waves. I turned away from the mirror and stepped into the bathtub. I reached for the showerhead and held it over my head with one hand as I turned the knobs with the other. The hot water felt amazing as I sprayed it back and forth across my body. When I finally got out, I rummaged through cabinet drawers until I came across a towel and a hairbrush. I dried myself and then took my time brushing my hair. When I was done, I changed into my borrowed clothes.

Darla was wrong: we weren't the same size. She might be younger than I was, but she had a lot more curves. Everything was a bit too large. I tied the bottom of the white T-shirt into a knot and pulled the drawstring on the gray sweatpants tight. For some reason, I felt more vulnerable when I came out, even though I was fully clothed. Maybe it was because I was wearing a stranger's clothes.

I was in a strange place, with people I'd just met, and I was about to bunk down like a guest. An unwelcome guest. Even though he said I should stay, Luke did not have a welcoming expression as I came out of the bathroom.

"You were in there a long time." He was standing against the row of windows. He looked even bigger than I remembered. Was it possible that he'd grown five inches since I stepped into the bathroom? No. It was just the play of shadows against his body.

"Sorry, did you want to take one? I didn't mean to hog all the hot water."

"I usually take my showers in the morning."

He'd changed and currently wore no shirt and a pair of black sweatpants. I realized I was staring at him again and blushed like an idiot. The only thing I could think of to say was, "Oh, okay."

"Darla put an extra blanket on the back of the couch in case you get cold."

"Thanks. Where is she?"

He gestured toward one of the partitioned sections. "She went to bed."

I stood there feeling foolish, not sure what to say next.

He pointed to the couch. "The sheets are fresh, but the pillow is a bit lumpy. We aren't set up for houseguests. I'll leave the light on in the bathroom and the door open. That way, you'll have a bit of light in the room if you get up in the night."

"I'm a pretty sound sleeper." It wasn't a lie, not really. I used to be a sound sleeper until the nightmares set in. I would probably wake up in a cold sweat, trembling from head to toe. I desperately hoped I wouldn't wake up screaming at the top of my lungs.

I gave him a smile and moved past him to the couch.

He walked across the room and flipped off the overhead lights.

I settled under the covers and watched the shadows from the window play against the ceiling. "Thanks again for the food, the shower, and the place to crash."

Luke stopped but didn't turn around. "No problem."

"I like your place. It's... comfortable."

"I'm glad you approve." His voice sounded amused.

"Good night." As I said the words, I swear I heard my brother's voice whisper in my ears, "Sleep tight. Don't let the bed bugs bite." It had to be my imagination. Lack of sleep was starting to affect my ability to function. A good night's sleep and I'd be stronger tomorrow, and maybe ready to take on whatever challenges came my way.