charge - a riot squad would be okay, though she'd settle for some battle-scarred veteran cop with a shitload of guns. Or Chris; Claire didn't know if she'd find him at the station, but she firmly believed that he was still alive. If anyone was equipped to handle himself in a crisis like this one, it was her brother. Whether or not she found anybody, she shouldn't take off without telling Leon; if she didn't, blowing town instead, and he got killed looking for her... Decision made. Claire walked for the entrance, carefully skirting the blaze and scanning the flickering shadows for movement. When she reached the door, she closed her eyes for a second, one sweating hand on the latch. "I can do this," she said quietly, and although she didn't sound as confident as she would've liked, at least her voice didn't tremble or break. She opened her eyes, then the door; when nothing jumped out at her from the softly lit hall, she slipped inside.
Chapter Eight
Chief of police brian irons was standing in one of his private corridors, trying to catch his breath, when he felt the shuddering impact rumble through the building. He heard it, too - heard some- thing. A distant splintering sound, heavy and abrupt.
The roof, he thought distantly, something on the roof...
He didn't bother following the thought to any kind of conclusion. Whatever had happened, it couldn't make things any worse. Irons pushed away from the stone wall with one well-padded hip, hefting Beverly as gently as he could. They'd be at the elevator in a moment, then there was just the short walk to his office; he could rest there, and then... "And then," he mumbled, "that's the question, isn't it? And then what?"
Beverly didn't answer. Her perfect features re- mained still and silent, her eyes closed - but she seemed to nestle closer to him, her long, slender bodycurling against his chest. It was his imagination, surely. Beverly Harris, the mayor's daughter. Youthful, stunning Beverly, who had so often haunted his guiltydreams with her blond beauty. Irons hugged her closer and continued toward the elevator, trying not to let his exhaustion show in case she woke up. By the time he reached the lift, his back and armswere aching. He probably should have left her in his private hobby room, the room he'd always thought of as the Sanctuary - it was quiet there, and probablyone of the safest areas in the station. But when he'd decided to go to the office, to collect his journal and a few personal items, he found that he simply couldn't stand to leave her behind. She'd looked so vulnerable, so innocent; he'd promised Harris that he would watch out for her, and what if she was attacked in his absence? What if he came back from the office and she was just... gone? Gone like everything else... A decade of work. Networking, making the connec- tions, careful positioning... all of it, just like that. Irons lowered her to the cold floor and opened the elevator gate, trying desperately not to think about all that he'd lost. Beverly was the important thing now. "Going to keep you safe," he murmured, and did one corner of that perfect mouth rise slightly? Did she know she was safe, that Uncle Brian was taking care of her? When she was a child, when he used to frequent the Harrises' for dinner, she'd called himthat. "Uncle Brian."
She knows. Of course she knows.
He half-dragged her into the lift and leaned her in the corner, gazing tenderly at her angelic face. He was suddenly overwhelmed by a rush of almost paternal love for her, and wasn't surprised to feel tears well up in his eyes, tears of pride and affection. For days now he'd been subject to such emotional outbursts - rage, terror, even joy. He'd never been a particularly emo- tional man, but had grown to accept the powerful feelings, even to enjoy them after a fashion; at least they weren't confusing. He'd also had moments when he'd been overcome by a kind of strange, creeping haze, a formless anxiety that left him feeling deeply unsettled... and as bewildered as a lost child.
No more of those. There's nothing else that can go wrong now; Beverly's with me, and once I collect my things, we can hide away in the Sanctuary and get some rest. She'll need time to recover, and I can, can sort things through. Yes, that's it; things