Heat

“Without help, yes.” Tagen leaned forward, his eyes unblinking. “Which is why I need you, Daria Cleavon. And which is why I will not allow you to refuse me.”

Daria sat back, blinking. “Me?”

“Yes.”

“Why me?”

“I found you first.”

“Well, you have a really inflated idea of just how much help I’m going to be,” she said, stu

“Yes,” he said, with an sincerity that was almost insulting. He raked his claws through his hair and gave the ceiling a long-suffering glance before returning his attention to her. “But I have you. And you will suffice.”

Daria had never been snubbed in quite that way before. It was like wi

“Well,” she said in a small voice. “How can I help?”

He eyed her warily before answering. “I am hungry.”

She started to get up and then sat back down again. “I can’t cook without dishes.”

Suspicion painted itself over his face once more. “If I let you have those things, will you try to use them against me?”

She thought about it and her heart fell. “No,” she admitted.

“Why should I trust you?”

“Because I really, really want you out of my house.”

She didn’t know what answer he expected, but clearly, that wasn’t it.

“You scare me,” she said, “but you haven’t hurt me. And you could.” Her eyes dropped to his waist. There were two devices holstered at his belt, devices too ugly to be anything but weapons. “Not even when I threw pudding at you.”

He acknowledged that with a rueful glance back down the hall. One of his talons tapped at the carpet.

“Besides,” she said hopelessly, “even if I could get away from you, where would I go? If I told anybody you were here, I’d be locked up for life. So I might as well help you because I could never get anyone to believe me.”

“Thank you,” he said dryly, but then he sighed and said it again, without the sarcasm. “Thank you, Daria Cleavon. You will find what you need in the room of holding.”

Daria smiled faintly, understanding him perfectly. Dan’s old room, the room of holding. Holding stuff, holding still. It was a good place to hide things; she hadn’t been in there in years except to open the windows in the summer and close them again for the winter. She’d have probably starved to death before she thought to go in there and look for the hammer with which to pry open the doors.

And now this had happened. Nothing was holding still anymore. And nothing would ever be the same.

Daria got up from the couch and went upstairs so she could get her alien something to eat.

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