At the back corner of the house, orange blooms, petals glowing faintly in the soft light of the moon. Four windows spread out on the left. That, and a four-foot stucco gap are all that stands between me and a massive oak tree. The oak,branches thick and extending toward me like arms, is my ticket to the grassy stretch below.
A two- or maybe three-foot gap of wall separates each of the windows. Taking a deep breath, I hook the crook of my foot onto the window’s ledge, the frame creaking under my weight.
Wind whistles in my ears. The whole tree blurs, then sways as a wave of vertigo sends brown spots to dance at the edges of my vision.
Turning on the sill is next to impossible. Grinding my fingertips into the frame, I shuffle like a drunk duck with a death wish until my face is inches from the pale, off-white cement plaster wall covering.
My knees burn, thigh muscles clenching to compensate. I have to stand, but standing means moving. Moving means leaving the safety of the window.
Shit.
Legs shaking, I rise and balance my weight on the balls of my feet.
In through the nose. Out through the mouth. Don’t think. Move.
Gripping the wall between the windows is so much easier than the frame. The stucco gives me enough traction, but when I stretch my right foot out and hit nothing but air, a phantom plummet jolts through me. One wrong step is all it would take. I pull back with a curse.
It’s further than I thought, but not impossible if I stretch. Fingers clutched around the corners of the surface, I search for somewhere flat to perch with my toe.
I have no idea how I manage to actually pull off the crazy stunt, but I find myself across the first window and looking toward the next. The third window is going to be the make or break though. That column of wall extends an additional two inches, all the way down to the grass.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Fuck me.
A head pokes out of my still open window. Skin reddening around his mask, Charade gapes at the sight. I’d laugh if it wouldn’t send me careening to my death on his perfectly manicured landscaping.
“If you wanted to kill yourself, you should have told me beforewe left the CCP.”
I flip him off with my free hand.
“Please come inside.”
I stretch my leg out, the toe of my shoe barely finding solid ground. “I would, but being part of an evil plan doesn’t sound appealing right now, so?—”
Rrrrrrip!
The solid ground goes out from under my weight. There is nothing but… Nothing. My cheek scrapes off against the wall, stucco slicing into my skin. Something warm and wet trails down my left palm where the hastily-grabbed, sharp window ledge digs into my finger joint creases. The plaster façade slicks with my blood.
“Damn it, Kaye!” A vice-like grip clamps around my fingers. My gaze locks on the white canvas of his mask. “Give me your other hand.”
Our palms slam together. Then he pulls, using his weight as my anchor until I’m through the window and crashing onto the floor within. I land with my hand still clutching his and my chest crushing into his side. The man is danger incarnate, but I can’t bring myself to care. With my heart pounding furiously in my ears and the memory of thatnothingall around me, I’m just grateful to be alive.
My voice scratches against my throat, though I don’t remember screaming. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me.” His chest heaves, breaths coming out in shallow, staccato bursts. “Promise me that won’t ever happen again.”
I shake my head. “You know I can’t.”
He pushes to his feet, his arms flaring wide as he paces a frantic circle. “Do you even have anywhere else to go? Anyone to run to that you won’t put in danger? You’repersona non gratain this city now. I’m all you’ve got.”
I scoot back until my shoulder meets the wall, tucking my knees against my chest. “You wouldn’t do all this just because you needed a little help.”
“You have no idea what I would or wouldn’t do, Checkmate.”
“My name is Kaye,” I snap through clenched teeth.
“For now, it’s enough to know you owe me,” he grits out.
