A man sat on the stairs, his head leaning against the wall.

Gently I lowered Derek to the floor and went for my sword. The man’s chest rose and fell in a smooth, even rhythm. I padded up the stairs, breathing through clenched teeth, until I could see his face. Crest. He didn’t wake.

I tapped his head with the flat of Slayer’s blade. When I awoke, I did so instantly and silently, my hand looking for my sword before my eyelids snapped open. Crest awoke like a man unused to danger, with luxurious slowness. He blinked and stifled a yawn, squinting at me.

I gave him a moment to recognize me.

“Kate?”

“What are you doing here?”

“I came to pick you up for dinner. We had a date.”

Shit. I had completely forgotten about the date.

“I got held up until ten,” he went on. “I called you but you didn’t answer. It was too late by then, but I figured I’d drop by with a peace offering.” He held up a paper bag full of white cartons, decorated with a stylized Chinese symbol in red ink. “You weren’t here. I thought I’d wait a couple of minutes, sat down here on the stairs . . .” His brain finally registered my bloodied clothes, the sword, and the smudges of dried blood marring my face. His eyes widened.

“Are you okay?”

“I’ll live.”

I unlocked the door to the apartment, opening the ward.

“There is a naked man on the landing,” I said hoping to forestall any upcoming questions. “I’m going to carry him into this apartment.”

Crest threw the Chinese food into the apartment hallway and went down the stairs to get Derek without saying a word. Together we brought him inside and put him on the hallway carpet. I shut the door in the world’s face and let out a breath.

I kicked off my shoes and turned the lantern switch. My shoes were bloody again. Oh well, nothing a lot of bleach wouldn’t fix.

The tiny flames of feylanterns surged up, bathing the apartment in a comforting soft glow. Crest knelt to examine Derek’s leg.

“He needs emergency care,” he said. His voice had the brisk, professional, slightly distant tone good physicians adopted under stress.

“No, he doesn’t.”

He glanced at me. “Kate, the cut’s deep and dirty and the artery’s probably severed. He’ll bleed to death.”

Dizziness came, and I swayed a little. I wanted to sit down, but couches and chairs were harder to bleach than shoes. “He isn’t bleeding.”

Crest opened his mouth and looked back at the wound. “Shit.”

“The Lycos Virus in action,” I told him and went to the kitchen. There was no ready ice and scraping the freezer walls wasn’t in me right that minute, so I put the bag into the sink and pulled off my shredded jacket in a flash of pain. The top underneath was soaked with blood. I tried removing it but it was stuck. I rummaged through the everything drawer for scissors, found some, and tried to cut off the vest.