miss that meeting.
She needed to lose him.
Deirdre hooked a hard right turn into the alleyway. She vaulted over a crate, leaped onto the top of a Dumpster, and scaled the brick wall behind it with all the speed she could muster. And it was a lot of speed these days. She was getting faster all the time.
She scrambled up the side of the building, finding footholds and handholds with practiced ease. Three stories, five stories. It was easy.
Deirdre hit the roof and didn’t stop to look for the man following her.
She immediately launched off of the edge of the wall, catching a fire escape on the next building.
After all the time she’d recently spent climbing things like cliffs and trees, scaling a ladder was ridiculously easy. It only took her a couple of short minutes to reach an open window on the nineteenth floor.
She leaped into the living room on the other side.
“Sorry, hi,” Deirdre said, hitting the floor on her knees.
The vampire occupant, who had been watching TV in a shady corner, leaped to his feet with a gasp. His eyes were nearly white, as though with cataracts. He must not have been getting enough blood lately.
He flashed elongated canines at her. “Get out!”
“Just passing through! Sorry again.”
He chased her through the kitchen to the hallway of the apartment building, but luckily, he didn’t follow her past his front door. He was sluggish with starvation. He couldn’t have caught her if he wanted to.
Deirdre pounded down the hallway, arms pumping, lungs heaving.
The walls were paper-thin. She could hear what the building’s other residents were up to through their doors—watching Rylie’s latest statement on the news, having arguments over who should pick up their food stamps that night, barking dogs. Everything smelled stale, like nobody in the building had cleaned for weeks.
There was a window at the end of the hallway, open a crack to let the summer breeze in. Deirdre shoved it open.
She could see the address that Rylie had given her by looking over the nearest rooftops. It was just a block away, underneath what used to be an office building.
Someone nearby screamed.
A door opened in the hallway behind Deirdre.
She glanced back long enough to see a skinny man with a hooded sweater and sunglasses emerging from an apartment. He was carrying a gun.
This wasn’t a tail. This was an assassination attempt.
“Better and better,” she muttered, swinging her legs out onto the ledge. Deirdre stepped to the left so that she wouldn’t be visible from the window.
A gunshot.
The windowsill beside her exploded into fragments of wood.
The next building was five stories shorter than where she stood. Maybe six stories. Too far away for her to reach. There were trash bags piled against the side of the building, so she aimed for those, hoping they would be enough to soften her landing.
Deirdre didn’t have room to get a running start.
She threw herself from the building with all the power coiled into her thighs, soaring across the street with her arms outspread. Her jacket flapped behind her. The scarf covering her hair unknotted and whipped away into the wind.
Her stomach rose into her throat as she fell, graceful and without gravity.
Deirdre struck the edge of the building and rolled.
Her heart was pounding so hard that it felt like it was going to explode.
She hadn’t expected to land safely. She definitely hadn’t expected to hit the roof. She had only trusted that her body would be able to heal whatever she broke when she landed wrong.
Yet there she was, on the roof of the building, alive and without any new broken bones.
She glanced at the window she’d jumped from. There was no sign of the man with the gun.
That didn’t mean she could stop.
Deirdre jogged across the building’s roof, slid down the awning on the other side, bounced off of a dormer, and finally swung from a windowsill to reach the street level.
Another gunshot. It sounded like it might have been on
She needed to lose him.
Deirdre hooked a hard right turn into the alleyway. She vaulted over a crate, leaped onto the top of a Dumpster, and scaled the brick wall behind it with all the speed she could muster. And it was a lot of speed these days. She was getting faster all the time.
She scrambled up the side of the building, finding footholds and handholds with practiced ease. Three stories, five stories. It was easy.
Deirdre hit the roof and didn’t stop to look for the man following her.
She immediately launched off of the edge of the wall, catching a fire escape on the next building.
After all the time she’d recently spent climbing things like cliffs and trees, scaling a ladder was ridiculously easy. It only took her a couple of short minutes to reach an open window on the nineteenth floor.
She leaped into the living room on the other side.
“Sorry, hi,” Deirdre said, hitting the floor on her knees.
The vampire occupant, who had been watching TV in a shady corner, leaped to his feet with a gasp. His eyes were nearly white, as though with cataracts. He must not have been getting enough blood lately.
He flashed elongated canines at her. “Get out!”
“Just passing through! Sorry again.”
He chased her through the kitchen to the hallway of the apartment building, but luckily, he didn’t follow her past his front door. He was sluggish with starvation. He couldn’t have caught her if he wanted to.
Deirdre pounded down the hallway, arms pumping, lungs heaving.
The walls were paper-thin. She could hear what the building’s other residents were up to through their doors—watching Rylie’s latest statement on the news, having arguments over who should pick up their food stamps that night, barking dogs. Everything smelled stale, like nobody in the building had cleaned for weeks.
There was a window at the end of the hallway, open a crack to let the summer breeze in. Deirdre shoved it open.
She could see the address that Rylie had given her by looking over the nearest rooftops. It was just a block away, underneath what used to be an office building.
Someone nearby screamed.
A door opened in the hallway behind Deirdre.
She glanced back long enough to see a skinny man with a hooded sweater and sunglasses emerging from an apartment. He was carrying a gun.
This wasn’t a tail. This was an assassination attempt.
“Better and better,” she muttered, swinging her legs out onto the ledge. Deirdre stepped to the left so that she wouldn’t be visible from the window.
A gunshot.
The windowsill beside her exploded into fragments of wood.
The next building was five stories shorter than where she stood. Maybe six stories. Too far away for her to reach. There were trash bags piled against the side of the building, so she aimed for those, hoping they would be enough to soften her landing.
Deirdre didn’t have room to get a running start.
She threw herself from the building with all the power coiled into her thighs, soaring across the street with her arms outspread. Her jacket flapped behind her. The scarf covering her hair unknotted and whipped away into the wind.
Her stomach rose into her throat as she fell, graceful and without gravity.
Deirdre struck the edge of the building and rolled.
Her heart was pounding so hard that it felt like it was going to explode.
She hadn’t expected to land safely. She definitely hadn’t expected to hit the roof. She had only trusted that her body would be able to heal whatever she broke when she landed wrong.
Yet there she was, on the roof of the building, alive and without any new broken bones.
She glanced at the window she’d jumped from. There was no sign of the man with the gun.
That didn’t mean she could stop.
Deirdre jogged across the building’s roof, slid down the awning on the other side, bounced off of a dormer, and finally swung from a windowsill to reach the street level.
Another gunshot. It sounded like it might have been on
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