Page 88 of Heart and Soul
“Now you’re getting it.”
The succubus coos with delight, snaking her tongue up my neck.
“In fact, we’ll need the whole can,” I add. With a devilish grin he slides a can of whipped cream across the bar to me. I stuff it in my clutch bag, then I brush my fingertips down the woman’s cheek. “Save room for dessert. Meet me in there. I’ve got to freshen up first.” She purrs like a cat before slinking into the shadows of the back rooms.
Back at the curtain, I make a quick check that nobody is watching me, and then I sidestep behind it. In near total darkness, I can just make out the shape of steps leading up a narrow passage to a door. It’s slightly ajar, letting in moonlight. I know what this is. It’s the roof access.
As I pad up the steps, I hear a man’s voice on the other side of the door. “Yes, sir, on my rounds just now. A guest on the roof, north side. Yes,now. I’m staring right at him.” Peering through the narrow opening, I can see Jay at the edge of the roof, looking down at something, oblivious to the fact that he’s been spotted. I hear the metallic click of a bolt action.”
I throw the door open and swing my clutch in a wide arc to my left, where it connects with a demon guard’s face. The full can of whipped cream makes a cracking sound against his skull. He staggers back.
Now there are rapid footsteps flying up the stairs behind me. I pounce on the guard, locking his head in the crook of my arm, and drop all my weight against him. He crumples to the rooftop. I lift his hand—which is still gripping the assault rifle—aim it at the access door, and pull the trigger just as the silverback wolfman bursts outside. With a deafening rip of shots, he is knocked clear off his feet and over the side of the roof, a three-story drop. Good night. I knock the guard’s head against the tile, and it’s lights out for him, too.
Jay’s gone. Rushing to the roof’s edge, I spot him climbing down to the rooftop of the adjoining building. I want to call down after him, but we’re not alone. I hear voices down on the street directly below us, where two big-rig trucks are parked, their long, white box trailers lined up with the curb. Pinstripes and Bowler Hat are both down there, barking orders at men in the back of the trucks.
“Let’s go, clear outta there,” Bowler Hat says. “We got a thirty-second window to hit. One too many red lights, and we miss our target.”
The men shut and secure the trailer doors as Bowler Hat climbs up behind the wheel of the lead truck. Pinstripes takes the second truck, starting it up with the throaty growl of its massive diesel engine. When they both pull away, my fear is confirmed—Jay leaps off the roof into a tree and climbs down. He’s going after the trucks on foot. I have no idea how, but he’ll find a way.
And he’s right to abandon us. The mission priority just changed. Whatever those revenants are up to with those trucks, it’s something big, it’s something soon, and it’s something out there in the city. My city.
It takes every ounce of willpower not to follow Jay. The others have no idea what’s happening. I’ve got to get them out, and fast. Problem is, the instant I turn back toward the access door, I hear a gaggle of footsteps coming. I scramble up the slope of the roof and dive to the other side just as several men burst from the access door.
“Rocky’s out. Not shot. Just banged up.”
“What about Nash? No way somebody took him down.”
“Oh, he’s down all right. And I mean all the way. Look there, in the alley.”
“You gotta be shitting me. Who the hell bodies a werewolf his size, just like that? What exactly are we dealing with here?”
A voice I recognize—Capra, the golden boy revenant with the black chin—says, “Uninvited guests. Four of them. One obviously went after the trucks. The others must still be inside. Get down there. Look for a court jester mask or a fox. Go!”
Panic threatens to overtake me. They’re on to us, and I’m stuck on the roof with a revenant and no way to communicate with Russo and Hillerman. Can’t climb down through a window—they’re all boarded up. Try my luck with golden boy? Vampires are crazy strong and supernaturally fast. I’d never take one on without a gun and/or a Brenner.
I hear his light footsteps crossing the roof to the edge where Jay descended. From there, he could see me if he turned around. Crawling on all fours—hard to do in this dress—I take up a hiding spot behind a wide brick chimney. There’s a muffled sound of a phone ringing. Peeking around the corner of the chimney, I see him holding a phone to his ear. If I’m going to make a move, it’s got to be now. I can bolt for the—
Hold on.
I take a step back and peer up at the chimney. Chimneys come from somewhere. They come from fireplaces. Down in basements.
Without another thought, I high jump, gripping the top lip of the chimney, and pull myself up. The opening is plenty big, leading down into pure darkness. I’m in clear view of the revenant now. He is starting to turn toward me when I drop inside, pressing against the bricks with my feet and my back, wedging myself. I pause to catch my breath.
“Watch for tails,” Capra says into the phone. “Don’t stop or slow down for anything, not lights or police. They can chase all they want. The more collateral damage, the better. Let them burn.”
Burn! I’d bet all the money on that poker table that the trucks are full of explosives. A fireworks show, the necromancer had said. And Jay’s going after them. I was crazy to let him off the leash.
Panic surges through my heart. I slide down the inside of the chimney, scraping hands and elbows, tearing up my dress. Soon—too soon to be at the bottom already—my shoes hit a roadblock. Feeling around, I find no openings in the walls. The blockage is solid metal. It’s the flue. The flue is shut! Why hadn’t I thought of that? I push on it. I pound on it. I stomp on it. I jump up and down on it. Once, twice…
On the third jump, the flue dislodges, and I crash down into the fireplace with an explosion of soot. Coughing, eyes watering, I roll out of the hearth into the dark basement. This dress has had enough. With only a slight shrug of my shoulders, it falls in tatters around my feet. Luckily, I had worn jeans and a T-shirt underneath it—a tip which Hillerman gave, but couldn’t follow herself with a backless dress.
Well, what a pretty sight I must be. Covered in soot, hair a wreck, knuckles and elbows bleeding. Chucking my mask away, I hang my clutch bag on my shoulder and mount the crumbling concrete steps leading up to the ballroom floor.
Time to crash this party.
“You know what, I changedmy mind,” I holler over the music to the bartender. “Give me one of those flaming drinks.”
He looks me up and down, jaw dropping.
