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Samuel
Janeisn’therself.
It’s to be expected, after everything she’s gone through. Everything she’s still going through. I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop, for her to scream and wield a stake toward my heart.
Instead, she’s wandering the darkness of my room, looking for something she’ll never find. Her face is paler than usual, withdrawn.
The sunshine will return to her eyes soon. I’ll make sure of it.
She reenters the hole in the wall, returning to her apartment.
“Stay here for ten minutes and then join me in the lobby.” I keep my gaze locked on her face, studying it for any sign that her panic is setting in.
She only stares up at me, face set with a fierce determination. “Okay. Why?”
“Because I need cash, and I don’t want your face anywhere near the ATM’s security camera.”
Rune will begin searching for me when I don’t appear at the Night Order’s yearly assembly, and if I’m lucky, Jane will be off his radar. Her decision to leave New York will be seen as a mere coincidence, just another person who decided that city life wasn’t for them.
Jane nods, silently processing. She grips the strap of her bag and then turns, crossing the room before plopping herself onto her bare mattress.
I glance at the broken bathroom door still resting against its frame. “Do me a favor?” I mutter, voice low.
“What?” Her tone is flat.
“Don’t go back into the bathroom. You shouldn’t have to see that again.”
She sighs, her shoulders falling dramatically. “I know.”
I take one last look at her fluffed locks and the blush of life on her skin before I depart, returning to my brief abode. The only thing I need is my overnight bag, which was never unpacked. I grab it, pat my pants pocket to ensure my wallet is still there, and slip my keys out.
I exit my apartment, locking the doors for the last time.
After a quick glance down the hallway, I run.
Just because I’m being careful with Jane doesn’t mean I expect Rune to find this place. If I’m lucky, and I normally am, Matthew was diligent in his discretion upon setting this rental up. There are cameras on every floor, and I’ve done well to shield my face when passing them during my time here. Even in the lobby, where entering the door unseen is practically impossible, I’ve been able to dip my head low enough that my face is unrecognizable.
But there’s an easier, and dare I say more speedy, way to exit the building.
I climb two sets of stairs before I get to the rooftop door. It’s locked, of course, but I shove hard enough that the bolt snaps. I half expect an emergency alarm to go off, but it doesn’t.
Tonight must be my lucky night.
Cool air bristles against my skin, flowing through my hair. When I take a deep breath, I half expect to smell the earthy musk of a mountaintop. Instead, I’m met with a smoggy stench and the scent of burning oil.
The backside of the building is my best drop site. There’s a yard-length gap between this building and the next, it’s bottom dark and polluted with street trash. A quick scan tells me no one is nearby, and no wandering eyes would be able to see me from this position.
I stride to the ledge of the building, hold my breath, and then step off.
The fall only lasts three seconds.
The concrete shatters beneath my feet, creating a perfect imprint of my shoes. A cloud of dust wafts up before me, and I stand tall, wiping it off my shirt.
I move quietly through the darkness around the building, taking care to stay out of sight. When a group of friends pass by the alley, I settle into their crowd, blending in. There’s an ATM a block ahead, nestled near the entrance of a twenty-four-hour convenience store.
My head lowers as I near the shop, careful to evade any stray cameras. There is no dodging the ATM’s built-in security, though.
The gray-haired clerk watches me from behind his glass encased counter, eyes narrowed in suspicion. I take it personally until a young couple enters the shop behind me, and he gives them the same glowering stare.
