Instead of trying to find cover, Judas swooped her up in his arms and carried her the rest of the way. He was climbing the steps of the mansion when the door flew open. Reflected in the dim fire light was a dark-haired man with dark eyes and a broad face. Lines of strain deepened along his forehead and beneath his eyes. His shirt sleeves were rolled up above his elbows, and a head full of straight hair was parted in the middle with a wayward lock falling forward over one eye. His soiled apron completed the picture of an insane butcher with a bloody hatchet in his hand. Judas could have sworn that he made a move to strike when his eyes happened to shift toward Sugar, who lay limp and exhausted in Judas’s arms.
“Is she hurt?”
“She’s all right. I just need to get her inside.”
“Hurry,” he s
