The Thames River isn’t my idea of an ideal swimming location, and especially not when it’s the part of the river that runs past industrial areas. I kept my face out of the water, oil, muck, and gods only knew what else had been pumped, dropped, or otherwise deposited into the river, swimming silently away from the warehouse. The laser burns on my chest and arms screamed in agony as the water hit them, but the sound of Kostya and his companion as they called to each other behind me kept me moving despite the almost overwhelming need to curl up into a ball and pass out.

Time passed. How much time I don’t really know; it all tended to blur into one long moment of pain and discomfort that stretched into an eon. At some point, however, I found myself clawing at a set of slimy stone steps that led out of the river to a small area that overlooked the river.

‘‘Need some help?’’ a man’s voice asked from the darkness.

I froze for a second when I realized I wasn’t shadowed any longer, eyeing the man who stood in the pool of light cast from a streetlamp.

He looked vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t quite place his face. I took a step closer, and I relaxed a smidgen as I saw he wasn’t a dragon.

‘‘Um . . . yeah. Thanks.’’ I took the hand he offered, grateful for his strength when he helped me up the narrow, slippery steps.

‘‘Take a tumble into the river?’’ he asked when I stood at the top, shivering with shock, cold, and pain, my hair dripping horrible slimy blobs onto the pavement, my clothes reeking of waste of so many forms, I couldn’t begin to separate them into individual elements. I was filthy, stinking to the skies, with bloodstains clearly visible on my clothing despite the swim.

‘‘Something like that, yes,’’ I muttered, uselessly trying to brush off the worst of the mucky residue left by the water. ‘‘Thank you for your help. I’ll be all right now.’’

‘‘My pleasure.’’ The man had a pleasant face with dark blond hair, blue-gray eyes, and one of those little clefts in his chin that seemed to drive women wild. ‘‘You are a mess, though, aren’t you? Here, let me help you. My car is right over here.’’

I shook my head as the man carefully took my arm, escorting me toward a small parking area next to a restaurant that sat on the river. ‘‘Thank you, but there’s nothing wrong with me that a gallon of disinfectant and a long shower won’t cure. Er . . . by any chance, have we met? I normally have a good memory for people, and something about you is very familiar, but I can’t seem to recall just where it is we’ve met.’’