Page 147 of Riordan's Revenge

“Pretty, isn’t she?”

I twisted to see Jamieson in the shadows, leaning against the wall, and with his Zippo lighter in his hand.

He grinned, the reflected firelight on his skin making him demonic. “Easy, too. I emptied the building with smoke grenades then left each floor burning as I cleared it. The only people left are in the basement at the back. Red and his crew will be cooking nicely.”

I lost it. With an anguished yell, I fell on him and threw a punch at his face, taking him down to the ground. Grappling his shoulders, I slammed his head into the pavement.

He wrestled me. “What the fuck?”

“Cassie’s inside.”

Jamieson’s expression instantly slackened. His shock pierced another hole in me.

“Cassie is inside,” I repeated.

And I was wasting time tackling her brother.

I straightened and staggered away, down the side of the building. Sirens sounded, adding to the discord of the night and the city in crisis. The emergency services hadn’t reached us yet, but they weren’t far behind. Neither were the skeleton crew.

I was the only hope Cassie had.

The only hope of retrieving her body, if that was all that was left.

Chapter 46

Cassie

In darkness, I stumbled, half walking, half being dragged by someone. My head weighed a ton, and my movements were clumsy.

The air tasted strange. I coughed. Choked. Fell to my knees.

An arm curled around my back and lifted me.

“Who are ye?” I managed.

“Friend.” Pain laced his words, the voice familiar.

He supported me a few more steps, bricks or some sort of debris underfoot. The thick taste in the air grew heavier.

“Where are we going?”

“Old coal chute. You’ll fit through it.”

“Ye, too?”

I battled to place his voice, but my head swam again, and I lost touch with reality for another minute, only coming to when a splintering sound reached my semiconscious state. I struggled to stand, faint orange light coming through a hole in the ceiling.

It was nighttime. I’d been unconscious since… When? The hospital?

For fuck’s sake. Someone had knocked me out. Kidnapped me.

“Where am I?”

The man took another swing at the wooden trapdoor, this time dislodging two short planks. It left a gap big enough for escape.

He didn’t answer. “Put your foot in my hands.”

I hesitated. I knew him. I knew exactly who he was. Why wouldn’t my brain supply his name?

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