Reckoning Page 0,55
God oh God we’re all gonna die doesn’t really fit the definition of banter, now does it.
The suckers kept screaming, hunting-cries echoing all over the city. I wondered what normal people were thinking of this, if they’d even hear, if they’d blame it on a neighbor’s television or something. There were sirens everywhere too, and fires. I wasn’t sure how much of it was just big-city warfare that happens on any normal night, and how much was suckers torching places where maybe djamphir or wulfen were fleeing—or trying to buy us some time to escape.
I didn’t know how many of the Order were in the city. Things sounded bad, and the terse questions Christophe threw at Nat when we weren’t scrambling were thought-provoking and terrifying all at once.
Inside, there were more stairs. I actually groaned before I could help myself, and Nat laughed. “Good for your ass!” she barked, and took them two at a time. Christophe’s hand closed around my arm. I didn’t need it—the aspect was still reliably doing its job. I’d been weaker and slower for so long, though, that I was kind of afraid of going all out. I couldn’t pace myself.
“Just a little further.” He’d gained his breath back, even though I could see the sweat drying in his hair. The soot and grime striping him looked like it was placed for maximum effect. “Extraction point’s on the roof. We’ll be safe in ten.”
I found enough breath for a single word. “Okay.” Then I concentrated on not being a hindrance. Our footsteps were in such close tandem they sounded like a single pair.
“Clear of the zone we’ll get a plane; we’ll land in Houston. There’s a Schola there—hot food and a good bed. Protection for you. They’ll have the loup-garou there, under restraint.” Christophe pushed me in front of him. “Keep going.”
I did. Nat sometimes leaned forward, her palms slapping the stairs as she flowed through changeform and back, stretching and leaping so gracefully it was enough to make the heart hurt. She was down to her last clip of ammo; I knew because she’d merrily informed Christophe of the fact three and a half minutes ago.
Up, and up, and up, breath tearing in my lungs and the aspect blurring everything around me. When Nat gathered herself in the middle of the last flight, I barely slowed. She extended in a fluid leap; another metal door crumpled and she rode it down. Leapt free, twisting in midair to land on her boots and skid to a perfectly-controlled stop.
“Ta-da!” she cried, and the helicopter crouching on the rooftop, in absolute defiance of any codes or regulations, whined as its motor started. It looked vaguely military, dull black and huge, and there, in the opening on the side, was a familiar face.
Hiro crouched, his lean caramel-colored face set as it usually was. He half-rose, fluid djamphir grace evident in every line of him, his black hair writhing in spikes as the aspect poured over him like a river. He was on the Council, and he was scary—but he was also the most patient and approachable out of any of them except maybe Bruce. His winged eyebrows rose slightly, and if he was surprised to see us it didn’t show.
His hand shot out, bracing him as he half-stepped down and stretched his other hand toward me.
We were so close.
The glare was sudden and immediate, klieg lights switching on. Nat whirled, snarling, the white light tearing through my dark-adapted eyes. I flung up a hand, and there was a whining roar.
Hiro leapt, a small black shadow. The helicopter made a grinding noise, and the missile hit it squarely.
“Get down!” Christophe shoved me, hard. I fell, losing skin on my palms as I tried to catch myself, skidding across the rough pebbled surface of the rooftop. Then the world turned white and rolled over, lifting up away from me. Every other massive noise that night paled in comparison. A giant warm hand scooped me up and flung me, air suddenly hard as concrete, and I skidded right off the edge of the roof. Somehow my body twisted, saving me without thought, claws dug into the side of the building with a terrific jolt almost breaking my wrists, my shoulders grating with pain. I hung, and it was a good thing, because flames belched over the lip of the roof and my hands let out another agonizing shriek of pain.
The touch swelled, a pipe organ of agony as nosferat shrieks cut