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She didn't look over the edge. She kept her eyes trained on the glowing embers of the monster's gaze in front of her. And took some small measure of satisfaction when he roared and made a hasty grab for her...too late.
Sharon toppled backward over the railing, onto the dark pavement below.
Traffic on the street outside her mother's apartment building was backed up for two blocks. Up ahead in the dark, emergency lights flashed, and police were directing vehicles to an alternate access onto Queens Boulevard. Dylan tried to peer around the minivan in front of her, to what looked like a pretty active crime scene. Yellow tape cordoned off the street below her mom's building.
Dylan tapped the steering wheel, sliding a glance over at the takeout that was getting cold. She was later than she intended. The episode at the runaway shelter had put her back about an hour, and all the phone calls to her mother's apartment had gone to voice mail. She was probably resting, probably wondering what the hell had happened to their little dinner celebration.
She tried the apartment again and got the message service again. "Shit."
A couple of kids swaggered by on the sidewalk, coming from the direction of all the activity. Dylan slid the window down.
"Hey. What's going on up there? Are they going to start letting cars through?"
One of the boys shook his head. "Some old lady took a header off her balcony. Cops are up there trying to clean up the mess."
Dread settled in Dylan's stomach like a stone. "Do you know what building?"
"Nah. One of the high-rises on 108th Street."
Oh, fuck. Oh, holy Christ...
Dylan jumped out of the car without even killing the engine. She had her cell phone in hand, dialing her mother as she headed at a dead run up the sidewalk toward all the commotion near the intersection a couple blocks away. As she got closer, cutting into the gathered crowd, her feet slowed of their own accord.
She knew.
She just...knew.
Her mother was dead.
But then her cell phone went off like a bank alarm. She stared down at the display and saw her mother's cell number on the lighted screen.
"Mom!" she cried as she picked up the call.
There was silence on the other end.
"Mom? Mom, is that you?"
A heavy hand landed on her shoulder. She whipped her head around and found herself staring into the cruel eyes of a man she'd seen only recently in a photograph from her mother's office.
Gordon Fasso held her mother's pink cell phone in his other hand. He smiled, baring the tips of his fangs. When he spoke, Dylan heard his deep voice vibrate in her ears and in her palm, as his words carried through the speaker of her mother's phone into her own.
"Hello, Dylan. So good to finally meet you."
Chapter Thirty-four
Somewhere in Connecticut, a couple of hours into the drive from Boston to New York, Rio's chest felt like it had been yanked open by ice-cold hands. He was on speakerphone with the compound, trying to find out if Gideon had been able to uncover any intel about the dead Breedmates Dylan reported seeing at the runaway shelter. The Order had the pictures she'd sent from her cell phone, and Gideon was searching for further missing persons information from the Darkhavens and human populations.
Rio heard the other warrior talking to him now, but the words weren't penetrating his skull.
"Ah, fuck," he groaned, rubbing at the tight blast of cold that seemed to have moved into the region of his heart.
"What's going on?" Gideon asked. "Rio? You still with me?"
"Yeah. But...something's wrong."
Dylan.
Something was very wrong with Dylan. He could sense her fear, and a sorrow so profound it nearly blinded him.
