Hour of the Dragon - Heather Killough-Walden Page 0,15

that at this point, blood was rushing through their ears and it would be more difficult to hear. Plus, they were moving away from her now. “If you find your way blocked on the way down by an obstruction, go back to the nearest floor. Let everyone on that floor know that the path down is blocked. Then go back through those offices to the second set of stairs on the other side of the building. Each office level has two sets of stairs.”

But this probably wasn’t… that. Not again, not this time. Right? At least, whatever it was, the building she was in probably wasn’t at the epicenter of the commotion. The rumbles that trembled through the office were too soft, the explosive pulses too distant. And the fire alarm was probably set off by someone on purpose, someone acting out of fear. Even so, time was most likely of the essence.

Anna followed them now, letting the door shut behind her as they made their way to the stairwell. She watched them leave following her instructions, then she broke into a run in the opposite direction. As quickly as possible, she ducked into each cubicle to make sure they were empty.

Then she left through the inner office door to check the bathrooms. Each was also empty, but as she was leaving the men’s restroom a third small rumble shuddered through the building, and now she could hear distant, muffled screaming.

She stopped in the center of the foyer and listened, paying close attention to the varying sounds, then she went the way her fellow employees had gone and headed to the stairwell fire exit. She leaned over the railing and gazed down the chute of empty space at the center of the stairwell. The squared spiral of stairs was empty below her, which was good; the advertising agency’s offices were on the top floor of the building, so if the stairwell was empty it probably meant everyone had gotten out safely.

Within seconds, she’d made it to the final level of the building, and fortune seemed to be on her side this time. She hadn’t passed anyone on the way down, and there was nothing blocking the stairs at any level. Anna pushed open the fire exit door and blinked against the midday sun that speared her eyes. But even through the blurriness, she could see the familiar figures of her fellow employees. They’d gathered together a safe distance from the building and were pointing at and discussing something occurring at a building a few blocks away.

A column of smoke rose from that area, and Anna could smell something nasty in the air. The wind was also hot; unnaturally warmed by an unexpected heat source.

A slithering sensation unraveled in her stomach. Anna’s teeth tamped together; she found she was tempted to hug herself in comfort when she approached her boss and the circle of employees around him. She made certain they were all aware she was out of the building and safe, and then told them to wait until they received the go-ahead to return inside.

But she was no longer worried about them now. It was clear even from this distance that whatever had gone down had done so far enough away that nothing inside her building would be directly affected – if you didn’t count all the water from the sprinkler system.

The trouble was centered two blocks away, and whatever forces of fate had “gifted” Annaleia with her unnatural abilities were now humming to life in her veins. She was being drawn to the site. Not out of curiosity or morbid fascination, but necessity. Someone was either dead in that mess, or they were close.

Annaleia always felt new death, the death that had just barely descended and turned off a beating heart. It was a part of what she was, and along with her red hair it was also one of the reasons her best friend tended to call her “Bruja.” Bruja was Spanish for witch. She was close to death, she supposed. She’d touched it, brushed against it, felt it grasp a tentative hold on her before it hesitantly let her go.

Anna didn’t realize she was already running until she stopped behind two large blue trash bins in an alley adjacent to the smoking scene. She leaned around one of them and scanned the area, trying to decipher what had happened.

The long, smooth white line of an airplane’s wing was like a bass beat in her guts. She blinked