The twin lasers seared through the night, spraying the darkness with bright beams of light that danced across the metal rooftop with deadly force.
The car lurched. A woman scrambled out, followed quickly by a man who turned, reached back in and hauled Wetherton out of the vehicle. Gray eyes appeared, blood pouring down the left side of his face as he turned and dragged out a woman who looked more dead than alive.
"Go with them, Briggs."
She continued firing until Briggs and the others reached the doorway, even though the shadow on the roof had disappeared as soon as they'd returned fire.
If he moved too far, they'd lose him. And with him would go any chance of understanding what the hell was going on.
She pressed the transmitter as she rose and ran back across the road.
"The attacker is a shifter, not a vampire. I'm in pursuit.
Cleanup team and ambulance required."
Siren's were already screaming in the distance. People milled on the sidewalk, drawn like moths to the flame. Though the paparazzi feasted on it all, several of them ran in her wake, as if in anticipation of a scoop. She dug out her badge and flashed it in their direction.
"SIU, gentlemen. Get the hell back."
With reluctance, they obeyed. At least initially. She had no doubt they'd follow—just a lot less obviously. That was another thing she'd learned over the years—the press and a good story weren't easily separated.
And there was a hell was a good story here. One she wanted uncovered as badly as they did.
She ran into Little Bourke Street and headed for the alley behind the cafés. The nearby streetlight flickered off and on, causing brightness to sputter across the entrance of the small alley, briefly illuminating the broken asphalt and grimy puddles of water. She slowed. The perfume of rotting rubbish, urine and water long gone stale rose to greet her, and she wrinkled her nose. So much for the hope that she'd left places like this behind when she'd become a spook.
The alley ran behind half a dozen shops. Rubbish bins lined rear fences, most of them either overflowing or overturned. At the far end, huddled in the rear entrance of a building, was a sticklike mass of gray hair and stained clothing. He whispered obscenities to the wind, his voice harsh, strained, as he gestured wildly at the night.
A drunk, not the shifter who'd attacked Wetherton.
She hooked the laser onto the waist of her pants and climbed the old wooden fence. Once on the other side, she hesitated, listening. Lights glowed from the back windows of the café.
People talked, a distant sound of confusion and concern that meshed perfectly with the sudden uneasiness of the night.
She looked up. The shifter was still up on the roof. His evil rode the air as easily as the wind stirred her hair.
Why hadn't he run? What was he waiting for?
Her.
A chill raced down her spine. It was ludicrous, it truly was, and yet the thought—or rather, the certainty that it was true— would not be shaken.
And yet, she was here by chance, by whim. How could anyone be so certain of her actions that they would know where she'd be at any given moment? It was impossible.
Though not, perhaps, for the man who shared her dreams and her thoughts.
And perhaps it wasn't even beyond the capacity of her makers, whoever they might be. Who really knew? Not her, that was for sure.
She rubbed her arms, but it did little to erase the cold sensation of dread running through her.
One problem at a time, she thought, and headed resolutely for the fire escape. Her footsteps echoed on the old metal stairs as she began to climb, a loud warning of her approach.
Yet no sound greeted her appearance on the roof. No movement. She frowned, not liking the feel of it.
A billboard dominated the concrete expanse. Spotlights lined its base, their brightness aimed upward, leaving the rest of the rooftop a wasteland of shadows. A big old aircon unit rattled to her left. The awareness trembling across her skin suggested the shifter hid behind it.
She raised her laser. "SIU. Throw out your weapon and then come out with your hands up."
The man hiding in the shadows didn't respond. On the street below, the wailing sirens abruptly stopped. Flashes of red and blue light ran across the darkness, splashing color across the glass walled office building opposite. Almost normal sights and sounds in a night that felt anything but normal.