She stood there, utterly rigid, and he was vaguely aware of the sword wavering indecisively between them, like she couldn’t decide whether to sink it into him or toss it aside. Tom’s hand hovered over her cheek. He wasn’t sure whether this was okay, so he stayed that way, feeling the warmth radiating from her skin.

“Does it hurt?” he asked her.

Her black eyes flashed up to his. The point of the sword bit into his abdomen. “The nerves are dead. What do you think?”

Tom opened and closed his mouth a few times before getting the words out. “I lost all my fingers. They froze.” He felt embarrassed admitting this, but he held his hands up, the only offering he had. “And I know the nerves are dead and they’re not even there anymore, so I’m imagining it, but sometimes they hurt. It’s weird. It’s stupid.”

Medusa considered him, and he was aware of the sword sliding back down. She planted it in the ground by her feet. “I shouldn’t have tried to kick out your fire.”

“You were right. It would’ve gotten me killed.”

She lowered herself next to the crackling flames and tugged on his trouser leg, so he sank down next to her. They faced each other in the wavering golden light, and Medusa took his hand, then raised it so it hovered near her jaw again.

“I don’t feel anything,” she told him.

This time, Tom brushed his palm over the scar tissue. Strange. He’d expected something hard or rough. But it was cool, even soft in places. There was something about seeing the burn so close, feeling it, that diminished it in his mind. It shrank away as that shocking thing seen only in fleeting, stolen glimpses, and soon all he could see was the girl across from him, with this one more aspect rendering her . . . well, far from ordinary.

“You haven’t tried to guess my name today,” Medusa pointed out.

“Oh, yeah. Forgot.” Then he threw one out. “Wu Tang.”

She rolled her eyes. “That’s your most pitiful guess yet.”

Tom leaned in and whispered, “Tell me your real name and I’ll stop coming up with bad guesses.”

She shoved him lightly. “You can’t coerce me with bad guesses.”

“I can try, Murgatroid.”

“Murgatroid?” She started laughing. “Is that even a name? It’s not Cantonese.”

Tom watched her and his brain seemed to short out. He wasn’t sure what to blame for it later. Maybe he temporarily lost his mind because Medusa was so close to him. Maybe his mind blurred at the sight of fire dancing in her black irises.