"Is that wise? It might yet be feeding strength to Dunleavy and his Gods."
"I don't think we have any other choice right now." She rubbed her arms against a sudden chill, unsure as to whether it was the cold night air or a premonition of worse to come. He rose and moved towards her. "I'm going downstairs to check the room. I suggest you go back home—" He broke off, frowning a little. "You said earlier you knew a man named Kinnard?"
"Know of him. We're not friends or anything. Why?"
"He was in your home earlier. I caught him coming out of a window with a pocket full of underclothing." The creep had been going through her clothes? Just the thought of it made her want to throw up again. "I hope you smacked him one."
A smile touched his lips. "I told him I'd kill him if I found him near the house again, but the creep insisted it was his place."
"Then I'm moving out." Though what other place in this Godforsaken town was likely to be any safer from Kinnard's prying fingers?
She studied the night beyond the walls. Pale yellow light flickered from a half dozen windows along the street below them, but a brighter light, more white than yellow, was a lone beacon two streets away, on what was the edge of the remaining buildings. Was that where the rangers lived? Would a ranger's house provide any sort of safety from Kinnard's inquisitiveness?
And if it did, as instinct suggested it might, how could she get Michael invited inside?
"If Dunleavy did invite you here to exact revenge," he commented. "It might not be wise to remain alone."
She raised an eyebrow. "You're offering to move in with me?"
"I'm here to find a killer, not baby-sit."
"Then what are you suggesting? That I move in with another man?"
"No."
It was sharply said, and she smiled. The magic might have forced his memories away, but his territorial instincts were well and truly intact.
"What then?"