Gift of Fire

Verity smiled gently. “Maybe he was there before you became notorious.”
    “Yeah. Possible.”
    “That’s all the information Caitlin had?”
    “That’s it.”
    “Then,” said Verity, “I will head off down the hall. Send out a search party if I’m not back by morning.”
    “Verity?”
    “Yes, Jonas?” She turned once again at the door. “Think about it.” It was a soft-voiced command. Verity didn’t have to ask what it was he wanted her to think about. She opened the door and stepped out into the carpeted hall.
    The hall light was out. It reminded her of the night she had returned to her cabin in Sequence Springs and found the deck light off. It was not a pleasant memory. There were no cracks of light under the other doors. Either she and Jonas had this floor all to themselves, or the other guests had already retired for the evening. Well, that should leave the bathroom free.
    Verity pulled her robe more snugly around her and leaned a little on the cane. She didn’t have to lean much, she realized. Her ankle was almost back to normal. She thought of Oliver Crump and his poultice and crystal. Of course, mildly twisted ankles healed quickly. There was no reason to attribute her rapid cure to Cramp’s abilities.
    There was enough street light coming in through the window at the end of the hall to enable Verity to distinguish between the door marked LADIES and the one marked MEN. A lot of the places she had lived in during her younger years hadn’t bothered with such niceties.
    She still remembered one nasty encounter with a drunk who had followed her into a down-the-hall bathroom years ago. Her father had heard her screams and come running. The only thing that had saved the drunk from being beaten to death was the arrival of several other tenants. They had pulled Emerson off the man not because they felt any sympathy for the drunk, but because everyone liked Emerson and no one wanted to see him jailed for murder.
    Verity decided she had no good memories of places where the bathroom was down the hall. Give her a Sheraton or a Hilton every time.
    She opened the door of the ladies’ room and found that the light was off in there, too. She began to get nervous, then anger set in. This had gone far enough! For the price she and Jonas were paying, they deserved decent lighting in the bathrooms. She would go wake the manager. Resolutely, Verity started to back out of the bathroom.
    She sensed the man’s presence behind her a split second before an arm in a heavy wool sweater wrapped around her throat. There was a faint, smoky scent on the wool. The adrenaline of fear flooded her veins, and she opened her mouth to scream. Her cry was cut off by a hot, damp palm.
    Verity started to struggle desperately, throwing herself from side to side. It was useless—the man was much stronger than she was. He was overpowering her quickly, dragging her out into the hall and presumably toward the staircase. A jolt went through her sore ankle as it struck the side of the door and Verity’s fingers clenched instinctively around the handle of her cane.
    The cane!
    Without stopping to think, she lashed out with the hardwood cane, seeking any available target. She struck her assailant’s leg and heard a sharp intake of breath. The hand around her throat then tightened, choking her ruthlessly.
    She rammed the cane backward, aiming for a vulnerable spot. The end of the stick struck somewhere in the man’s midsection, and she heard him gasp. Before he could recover, she rammed again, hoping to hit his groin.
    “Bitch!” The word was spoken violently but was almost inaudible as the man released Verity and doubled over in pain.
    Verity immediately began to swing the cane again, this time going for the man’s head. He dodged and charged blindly for the stairwell.
    Verity was screaming the house down even as her assailant hit the stairs at full speed.
    “Jonas!
Jonas!
”
    A door slammed open down the hall and Jonas came running toward her. He hadn’t stopped for his pants, she noticed. His lean, hard body gleamed like that of a naked warrior. All he lacked was a sword and shield.
    “Verity, what happened. What the hell’s wrong with the lights in this place?” He reached for her and pulled her tightly against him. “Are you all right? What’s wrong?”
    “The stairs,” she managed. “He went down the back stairs. He tried to grab me when I went into the bathroom. Had something over his head, a stocking cap, I