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were Lucies.
    â€œNo. Not this time,” she told him, sitting down on the edge of the old upholstered chair he’d rescued from the Dumpster when Alex was spring-­cleaning one of the attics. No worry about getting that thing dirty!
    Faith began to toe off her sneakers, then curl her toes in their pink socks into the soft, braided rug on the floor. His cue to leave, he guessed.
    â€œUh, I’ll go get your suitcase, and you can change your clothes if you want,” he said though he didn’t give a rat’s ass about dirt on the damn quilt, “then we’ll see what we can do about those bruises on your face . . . and, uh, anywhere else.”
    She nodded, then started to yawn widely but stopped when her split lip began to bleed again.
    He handed her a tissue from the box on his desk, and she dabbed at the moisture.
    â€œI still think you should go to the ER.”
    â€œNo! I just need to rest, then I’ll get out of your way.” Under her breath, she added, “Somehow.”
    â€œYou’re not in my way,” he said, which was an out-­and-­out lie, which they both recognized.
    She arched her brows at him in teasing disbelief, then had to hold the tissue against her mouth when another yawn reflex hit her.
    Karl was beginning to be concerned about her need to sleep. She’d already slept almost an hour in the pickup truck on the way here; he had to wonder if she was in shock or something.
    â€œAre you hungry?”
    â€œNot really. I’m more tired at the moment.”
    He got the message and left, closing the door behind him.
    After parking his truck in the underground garage, he snuck Faith’s suitcase upstairs. When he got there, she was already in his bed, the quilt pulled up to her neck. On a nearby chair, she’d folded her jeans and T-­shirt, along with the pink hat and scarf. Her jacket hung in the open closet.
    He set the suitcase down and, without hesitation, lifted the quilt. Her skinny body was covered only with a plain white bra and panties and the pink socks. Everywhere he looked, he saw new and old bruises, including her ribs. And then there were the two old scars of raised flesh on her thigh, the letters L and B that Jeanette had told Karl were carved there by the abuser.
    The fact that her eyelids did not even flutter as he looked at her near-­nude body alarmed him as much as her injuries.
    Leroy Brown was going to pay for this, sure as Karl was a vampire angel, but for now his biggest concern was Faith. Karl was no fool. He knew when he needed help.
    He found Alex down in the main salon, or what they called the front living room, directing the moving of furniture to accommodate the big-­ass tree that six vangels were hauling in.
    Tapping her on the shoulder, Karl said, “Alex, I need a favor.”
    She had been laughing at something one of the children said and turned to him with a smile, which immediately disappeared on seeing the expression on his face. “What?”
    â€œI need you to come upstairs with me.”
    â€œWhat is it, Karl?”
    â€œUm, something personal.”
    â€œCan it wait ’til later?”
    â€œNo, it can’t wait.”
    â€œPerhaps Svein or Jogeir could help you.”
    â€œI have a problem that requires a woman’s hand,” he said with exasperation.
    â€œOkaaay,” she said, calling out to Armod to keep an eye on the twins.
    As they went side by side up the wide, front stairway, he tried to prepare her. “There’s someone in my bedroom. She’s in pretty bad shape.”
    â€œShe? What have you done, Karl?” She stopped at the first landing, hands on hips, and scowled at him.
    â€œIt’s not what I’ve done. Well, it is what I’ve done since I brought her here, but her condition was caused by her boyfriend. Who is no longer her boyfriend if I have any say in the matter.”
    â€œShe who?”
    â€œFaith