“Conserve your oxygen. I can’t carry you both out.”

The night air had turned freezing. The phrase “too cold to snow” sprung to mind. I slid on the sidewalk and collided painfully with the brick wall of the building. Ziggy eased Nathan to the ground and opened the back of the van.

I peered over the iron railing to look down at the bookstore. The glass in the door had been broken, and foul-smelling smoke poured out. My mind raced with thoughts of the building burning to the ground and where we’d go to wait out daylight. We didn’t have time to gather Nathan’s things. His goldfish. His wedding picture.

I thought of how Nathan had rescued my diploma and the photo of my parents from my burning apartment. Those were still upstairs, too. But the sirens of approaching fire engines squashed any notion of knickknack heroism.

“Get him in the back,” Ziggy urged, picking Nathan up by the shoulders. With a count of three, we swung him into the van and slammed the door.

“Click it or ticket,” Ziggy reminded me, pointing to the seat belt as I climbed into the passenger seat.

As the fire trucks rounded the block, he started the engine and guided the van down the street at an inconspicuous pace.

“What did she do to him?” he asked, jerking his thumb toward the heavy tarp curtain that sectioned off the back of the van.

“I don’t know. He just fell over. Bam.” I threw my hands up in despair.

“I don’t get it.” Ziggy eyed me suspiciously. “Dahlia showing up in his living room isn’t the kind of thing Nate would miss.”

I shifted in my seat. “He was preoccupied.”

“Ah.” He at least had the courtesy not to reach back and high-five Nathan’s motionless hand.

“So what do we do now?” I asked, looking fearfully at the lightening sky. “Can we fix him?”

“Not if we don’t know what it is she did to him.” He kept his eyes on the road. “Do you know where to find Dahlia?”

I did. Behind the divider, Nathan moaned in pain. I closed my eyes. “Turn right at the next light.”

I found my way back to Cyrus’s mansion with little trouble. The wrought-iron gate was shut. “Let me out here.”

“Does the guy I think lives here live here?” Ziggy asked as he put the van in Park. “You want me to wait?”

I pushed the heavy door open and stepped onto the curb. “Yeah. If I’m not back before sunup, get someplace safe.”

“Why, it’s not like he can come out and get me or anything.”

Casting my gaze up the lawn, I saw five of Cyrus’s bodyguards filing out the door. “No, but he’s got those guys.”

“Holy shit.” Ziggy’s jaw dropped as he watched them through the driver’s-side window. “You’re not really going up there, are you?”

“I have to,” I said, sounding braver than I felt. As I turned away from the van, the strangest urge came over me to look at Nathan one more time. I forced it away.