Touch of Darkness (2 page)
The only other option was the old freight elevator that would deliver me right into the basement where there’s a small parking garage for the people who live here. Right now, the only car in the place should be Connie’s—if she’s not out on a call. She’s a bail bondsman (or is that bail bondswoman?), so she keeps odd hours. My own truck was stolen a year ago, and I had to use the replacement money to pay bills instead of getting a new set of wheels, so that spot is vacant. As a werewolf, Tom isn’t allowed to have a driver’s license, much less own a car. Damned prejudice anyway.
But I had no way of knowing if the elevator frame had been damaged. Would I get inside it just to have it get stuck halfway down, where I wouldn’t be able to get out? No, better to take my chances with the door. Tom had used the CAD program at work to make an escape plan for the building so that I could post it on the walls for future tenants …
and it didn’t include either elevator.
So, it would be me against my building. Well, I’d forced it to my will once when I renovated it from a mouseinfested dump—and I could do it again. After patting the top of the cat carrier for luck, I steadied my stance and grabbed the knob with both hands. As I’d expected, it didn’t give on the first tug. Not only did it not give, but the rumbling increased tenfold and the spider cracks sped up. Well, shit.
The second tug nearly pulled my arms from their sockets but I did get a hint of fresh air from the hallway that encouraged me. Blank mewled piteously from the back corner of the carrier as I bolted away from him to the kitchen, where I keep the crowbar. Normal people don’t keep crowbars in their kitchen, but normal people aren’t the building manager and maintenance department rolled into one. And, I hate trudging to the basement every time I find some old rusted thing that needs a helping hand. It happens more than I like to think about. It’s in the bottom drawer, right next to the WD-40…another handy item for the task at hand.
I set the black nylon jump bag onto the kitchen floor. It would only be in the way while I worked. A fine trembling was beginning in the floor, which was starting to panic me. People make mistakes when they’re panicked, so I tried not to listen to the noises of the building that was threatening to collapse onto my head. My mind focused down to, insert crowbar in doorway, throw weight against wall. Ignore big hole in drywall and move crowbar down a notch. Hose down hinges with lubricant. Repeat.
Inch by inch, the steel door fought against the steel frame weighted down with bricks and snow. I was winning but it wasn’t fast enough. A crash sounded behind me and I looked back to see that the bedroom where I’d been sleeping was now buried in what was probably a ton of steel supports, asphalt roofing, and sizzling electric wires. A rush of cold wind and snow hit me in the face and the air stank of smoldering wood and hot metal. Dear God. Is this what Tom feels like every time he goes in a burning building? My heart was pounding a mile a minute and my terrified cat was yowling while clawing and biting at the metal gate to the carrier to escape. The crowbar was down to the floor and the doorway was still only open about three inches—not quite enough to get a good grip with my hands where I could brace myself. Blank got picked up and moved to the left and then I used every bit of my leg strength to kick those steel-toed boots into the crowbar. It hit the baseboard with a thunk and the door popped open so hard and fast that I would have gotten knocked out if I hadn’t lost my footing and wound up on my butt. Woo!
Here’s to clumsiness!
More of the ceiling crashed to the floor, taking out Tom’s relatively new flat-screen television and the rocking chair that was one of the few things left from my mother. The kitchen, too, disappeared under a pile of rubble. But the header over the door held. A pile of snow the size of a child’s snowman fell through the new opening and hit my back just as drywall dust coated me. I started coughing, both from the sudden blast of cold air and the swirling dust. Pinging, cracking, and more screeching filled the air and a brick bounced off the wall about head height. I struggled to my feet and grabbed the carrier. The bag was toast, so I left it. I ran down the hallway toward the staircase. It’s an old metal tread emergency stair and the fire inspector promised me it would outlast the building. I prayed he was right as I headed down to the second floor. Tom’s old apartment is on that floor, but most of his stuff has been in my place since we got engaged. I didn’t need to knock on the other tenant’s door either. Rob Jameson and Dusty Quinn are members of Tom’s pack but they’re already in Las Vegas with—saints be praised!—my luggage and wedding gown. Dusty had half-jokingly suggested I allow her to take my luggage since I didn’t have a very good track record of making it to the church on time. I originally objected, but something had come up time after time in the past ten months since Tom proposed. So, I dutifully packed my bags and sent them off with her, while Tom shook his head indulgently.
I’ll bet this particular situation hadn’t occurred to either of them.
I reached the main floor and bolted down the hallway. “Connie! Wake up! We have to get out of here,” I yelled as I banged on the door with my fist. There was no time to check the garage to see if her car was there. Thankfully, I heard movement inside and a light flick on under the doorway.
She opened the door, rubbing eyes still bleary with sleep. Her hair was in curlers and a scarf. I didn’t think anyone still did that. I always figured she had a perm. “What’s wrong, Kate?” She yawned wide and then her eyes focused on me, widening as her jaw dropped a second time. “Oh, my God! Katie, you’re bleeding. What’s wrong? What’s happening?” Connie was suddenly alert and reaching for her shoes. “No, never mind. If you say we get out—we get out. Talk later. Action now.”
Was I bleeding? Probably. I tend to have that happen and not realize it in the heat of the moment. I didn’t feel woozy, though, and all my limbs were working, so whatever damage there was could wait. Still, I checked what I could see of myself, but I didn’t notice any blood. “The roof caved in from the snow. My apartment’s gone. If the walls go—”
I didn’t have to finish the thought. She did it for me. “The floors won’t hold all that brick. No shit we need to get out of here.” She was busily grabbing logical things, like her purse, cell phone charger, and flashlight. Wish I would have thought of that before they got buried. “Is there time to get my car?”
“Don’t know. This floor is pretty rock solid, but—” The lights went out again. Whether from the storm or the rest of the roof cutting the lines, I didn’t know. Connie switched on her big Maglite flashlight, one of the four-cell models, and turned it my way.
She let out a frustrated growl. “Doesn’t matter much now. We won’t be able to get the gate to the drive open. Or is there a manual chain to open it?”
I nodded. “Yeah, but it’s not an easy open. It’ll take a ladder, and time, to switch the gate over to manual, and I don’t know that we have either one right now. But the ladder’s in the basement if you think it’s worth giving it a try.”
Connie shook her head. “No, we’re not going down a floor if we don’t need to. We’ll hope for the best. C’mon, let’s get moving. We can use my cell to call 9-1-1 when we get outside.”
The rumbling started again overhead and I could see fear etch across Connie’s face in the dim reflection from the flashlight beam. I was beginning to feel vibrations underfoot and when I placed the flat of my palm against the wall, it was moving… swaying from side to side slightly. This was an interior wall, so if it was moving—“Crap! The whole thing’s coming down.”
There was no more talk. Connie opened the closet door and pulled out a green vinyl gym bag. It strained her arm muscles, so heaven only knew what was inside. She caught me looking and smiled … although it had grim overtones.
“Overnight bag. I always keep one packed so I can look decent at odd hours. Clothes, toiletries, toothbrush. That sort of thing.”
A crash to my left turned both our heads. Something had collapsed inside the stairwell. Billowing smoke and dust poured out and chased us down the hallway as we bolted for the front door. As we crossed the stunning mosaic tile entry floor, I caught the eye of the woman who’d been lovingly immortalized in bits of glass by an unknown someone when the building was built. I’d spent weeks carefully uncovering the tiles and replacing the few bits that had been damaged by the cheap linoleum someone had put over it before I bought the place.
By the time we opened the door and exited the building, she’d been covered over by dust—lost again to view. It was dark outside … no street lamps or headlights lit the snow that billowed and floated down between the skyscrapers. It was drifting across the sidewalk, but even the drifts were only up to my knees. Odd—
“Yes, that’s right… the whole roof’s gone. I can see where part of it’s come down.” I couldn’t help but hear as Connie recited the address and flicked the phone closed. My eyes moved upward as Connie turned her beam toward the top of my building. Rough edges had replaced the smooth, straight brick lines of the old factory. Two of the panes of glass started to fall inward, pushed down by the wind coming off the mountains—they fell like a slow motion building implosion. I winced at the resulting crash as the panes shattered.
“We should get across the street, in case the wind shifts.” My voice sounded flat and emotionless to my ears. I changed the cat carrier to my other hand and flexed my fingers to get the feeling back. Blank’s no lightweight and the wind was making my skin raw. He let out a little mmrrr and moved to the other side of the carrier in response to the wind shift. Yeah, he’s got fur and he lived outdoors for a time, but it was still freaking cold outside. Connie and I trudged across the unplowed street and found a place that was mostly sheltered against the opposite building. I put Blank in the most protected corner I could find and knelt down beside the cage to scritch his chin through the wire. After a long moment of both of us just staring at the collapsing building, Connie spoke. “So, what happened? Did you hear something, or did the whole thing just come down on top of you?”
LIGHTS, SIRENS, AND people filled the empty streets as the fire department arrived. One of the cops who’d responded to Connie’s call had caught sight of tendrils of smoke mixing with the snow and had called in an alarm. The pumper truck didn’t have any problem negotiating the snowy street, but the police cruiser had slid around quite a bit when it first arrived. I’d never really thought much about the men and women who have to brave weather like this just to do their jobs until I’d met Tom. Now every time I hear about a rescue during a flood, or earthquake…
or snowstorm, I offer a little prayer, asking for protection of those who choose to serve. As the firefighters stepped out of the cab of the big truck and began to move around purposefully, I saw one helmetclad man approach the chief and speak to him. The chief nodded and the man began to look around frantically. I raised my arm and he sprinted my way. He sprinted.
As bad as the day had been so far, I couldn’t help but smile as Tom threw his arms around me and held me close.
“God, Katie … when I heard the address of the call—” He turned my head from side to side with thick warm gloves that heated my frozen ears and cradled the back of my head. When he let go his glove tips were smeared with red. What with the cold, I didn’t even feel it and it didn’t look like there was much blood. In a flash of movement, I was suddenly pressed against his chest in a nearly suffocating hug. “I love you so much.”
My voice was a little muffled by his fire-resistant jacket. I was a little surprised he was still in uniform, instead of in wolf form. Werewolves have a hard time holding their human form when they get an adrenaline rush. It’s one of the reasons for the no-license thing. “I love you too, Tom. It’s okay. Everybody’s out and we’re fine.” I pulled away slightly, even though he didn’t want to let me. His eyes were turning from golden wolf eyes back to their normal chocolate brown. “Go. Do your job. You don’t need any more trouble from the guys.”
The little chesty snarl and frown told me he didn’t care what his peers thought of him. But he knew I was right. He’s been taking a lot of shit from the guys he works with after he deserted his post to save Joe from a madwoman who was, coincidently, also going to blow up one of the local hospitals. The fact that Tom managed to help take her down, save a mother and child, and tell them where to find the bomb that was going to blow up the ICU ward were the only things that saved his job.
By the time they’d raised the cherry picker to look inside the building and pour down water to contain the small fire—the chief was smart enough not to send anyone inside—the snow had stopped and the news vans had arrived. Them I didn’t say a prayer for, since I could do without any more coverage after the year I’d been having. I’d been brutalized by the press for my battle with the Thrall. They’d turned me into a media monster, without even asking for my side of the story. The only reason I hadn’t been run out of Denver with sticky feathers was the Barbara Walters interview that put me in a good national light. But as for the local press … phooey. Let ‘em slip off the road. I was thankfully spared having to talk with any reporters, which now included news choppers that scanned the area with searchlights, because I was spending my time with the cops and fire department. They were asking logical questions about what happened and I was doing my best to answer them. At one point, I felt a hand on my shoulder. It squeezed lightly, the touch of a friend or comrade, but by the time I turned my eyes, the person was gone. Or, at least, whoever had done the squeezing wasn’t someone I recognized. Still, for that brief moment, it had been comforting, because the enormity of the situation had finally dawned on me.
Tom found me at the end of two long hours, as they were rolling up to speed toward the next problem. “Okay, so I’ll see you in Vegas tomorrow night. Right?”
My jaw probably dropped. “Tom! The building just fell down. You can’t possibly think that I can—”
He held up his hand, as though expecting my protest. “No. We’re doing this, Katie. You’ve talked to my grandparents. You know how much they want to meet you; want to be witnesses to our wedding. The building is condemned. The cops are putting up the tape now. You can’t stay here. I can’t stay here. The police will guard the building to prevent looting until we can get a fence company out here to secure it. We already have plane tickets and reservations in Vegas for the next three days. It would be stupid for us not to use the hotel room. And—” He held my shoulders firmly in those strong, glove-covered hands. “I will marry you. Even if I have to drag you to the altar. The day after tomorrow you’re going to be Mrs. Kate Bishop.”
