Taking care of people wasmyjob. I pulled my headset into place and readied the oculars.
We walked to the balcony, where EJ leaned against therailing, aiming a grappling hook for the small piton on the building’s third floor, one he’d inserted into the wall face the first month after he’d arrived in Chat-town. It had been dangerous night work, hanging from a line secured at the ninth floor during an illicit B&E look-see between vamp tenants. We hadn’t told Walter. EJ tossed the hook. It caught on the piton on the third throw.
In a practiced gesture, he tossed three amulets high into the air, one up, one to each side. As they flew on an upward trajectory, he lifted his tuba and blew a deep note. The amulets exploded instantly. The alley filled with smoke above and all around, impacting, if not disabling, the ability of regular-vision security cams.
He tossed the tuba to Raccoon, who barely caught it, and handed the instrument to Lee. Hidden by the smoke, EJ leaped to the railing, balancing on one hand and his feet. The rope attached to the grappling hook was secured in his free hand and on his climbing harness.
EJ threw himself forward and up. Momentum and gravity pulled him across the alley. The smoke was so thick I lost sight instantly, but I heard him hit the wall face. He’d slammed against the building’s cement brick. Listening carefully, I picked up the sounds as EJ dropped into the small nook of the restaurant’s delivery doorway. The rope reappeared through the smoke, as if thrown, with EJ’s harness attached.
In silent breathless laughter, Raccoon pulled the line, tossed me the harness, and repeated the maneuver. I heard the shooter join EJ in the doorway’s small space.
I had never been into rock climbing, but I had practiced rappelling down a building wall and this escape two times in the past. Two years ago. I was about to discover if it was like riding a bike. I pulled EJ’s harness on and let Villetti buckle mein. Nerves jazzed through me as I climbed onto the railing, jumped high, through the thinning smoke, and banged into the building, scraping down. I grunted, landing hard, but uninjured. I removed the harness as if I jumped off my balcony every day.
As EJ punched in the door’s code, Raccoon released the rope from the grappling hook, leaving it and our harnesses in place for later retrieval. The door opened and we stepped inside, closing the door. Raccoon placed a small mat on the floor, and we cleaned our boots on it. EJ pulled his oculars into place and spun up the low light, re-familiarizing himself with the layout. I adjusted my headset to the low light and checked to make sure all traces of our passage were gone, before drying the mat and handing it back to Raccoon. Following EJ, I crossed the room to the cooktop and ovens. Around the wall at the floor was a row of tiles. He motioned to Raccoon to be ready and pointed at the wall. At the base of the oven where the owners prepared their signature salmon dishes, EJ tapped the second tile until it popped free, pressed the lever behind the tile. A narrow two-foot-wide door opened.
Nothing came flying at us, no fun house version of a magic attack.So far, so good.EJ replaced the tile and motioned Raccoon to take point. I took center. EJ followed me into the claustrophobic space and released the door at the back, exposing the hidden staircase. He activated one of our Aunt Cia’s moonstone amulets, a small sphere with a flat bottom, and placed it on the third step to give us working light and a quick view of the stairwell.
Ah heck no, I thought. EJ made a face. Raccoon grumbled, “You trying to kill an old man?”
I hadn’t known, and clearly EJ hadn’t remembered, the height of the risers. Normal stairs had six-to-eight-inch risers. These had ten-inch risers. My legs were gonna kill me before we reached the ninth story.
EJ secured the door to the restaurant, placed the moonstonein Raccoon’s hand, and we all studied the stairs. There was dust on the treads, suggesting no one had been this way since EJ had come last. However, we would leave a trail.
EJ tapped his ears and we snapped ear-patches in place.
Raccoon led the way up, weapon readied, taking the twisty turns and the tall risers. EJ was breathing steady and hard. I was gasping, my thighs burning by the time we reached the third floor. Raccoon’s breathing was unchanged. There were advantages to maintaining a battle-ready physique. The queen’s people trained like Olympic athletes, and they sipped vamp blood for healing, leaving their bodies in perfect shape. EJ and I drank from Walter only when we were badly injured. The difference was stunning, especially since Raccoon was in his forties. So much for the “old man” comment.
By the fifth floor, EJ was breathing hard. Raccoon was fine. Grinning. My muscles were on fire. I was pretty sure I hated Raccoon.
EJ tapped the only cold-air return grille I had seen. Air witches were constantly alert to things that affected the movement of air.
We took the tight turn at the eighth floor.
There was a pressure beneath my boot and a faint crunching sound. Liquid shot out. A bitter tang coated my tongue as I took a breath. Before the brittle sound of crushing glass faded, I said, “Uh-oh.”
My staff banged into the wall as it fell from my nerveless fingers. My body slumped in the same direction, banging into the staff. I was conscious, could see, could hear, but a fast-acting paralytic was already inside me. I fought to stay upright but that wasn’t happening.
As I started to fall, EJ sang, a pure, ringing note, exhaling, and said, “Gaoth a’ sèideadh.”
A wind swept down the stairs. The air pressure dropped. It had to be flowing through the air vent he had tapped on the fifth floor.
Above me, as I slumped, Raccoon jumped up three steps.
I slid down onto the landing below us with a thump and a rattle of amulets and weapons.
Raccoon’s feet touched down. Triggered something else. Lights strobed in the dark, flashing like knives, blinding. I couldn’t close my eyes.
The wind grew in strength, carrying the liquid-to-air working away. My ears popped. But I wasn’t breathing. I hoped EJ noticed.
I was lying on my staff. The labradorite in the head of the staff was attuned to my magic, but it was mostly a parlor trick. There was little I could do with it—
A door opened above us.
A harsh laugh tore past on the howling wind.
Raccoon made a strange sound. Choking. His weapon fired. Seven rounds.
The woman laughed again.
