Chapter Twenty
They raced toward the nearest building, intent on getting something, anything, between them and the creature. It howled the moment they broke into their sprint and scrabbled after them. The memory of claws slicing through body armor made it hard to draw breath. He focused on Cristian’s hand instead, on how tightly it held his own, and followed him.
The empty building loomed ahead of them through the gap in the fallen chain-link fence. Atlas hesitated. Even as dark as it was outside, moving inside meant what little sight he had would disappear, lost in that jarring transition. He needed to warn Cristian, to urge him to get away while he could, to not let him be slowed down. But the words wouldn’t come, couldn’t when they were already out of time.
Cristian’s grip on his hand tightened. “Trust me,” he yelled, still running full out toward the building.
Atlas squeezed back, took one final look at the clear path before them, then closed his eyes.
Every other sense roared into higher life. Cristian’s even breath despite their desperate flight, the pounding of their feet over the solid ground. Cristian’s hand lifted his just a bit, warning him of something, and ahead he could hear the change from packed dirt to grit-covered concrete under Cristian’s feet. The warning meant he didn’t overreact when he felt that same shift of ground. Instead, he threw all his trust into Cristian’s decisions and let him lead them deeper inside.
Their steps echoed through the cavernous space, ringing dully off the metal rafters overhead. They were deep enough inside now that Atlas opened his eyes, adapting as they shot past rusty machines. Their reflections skimmed like pale ghosts over the surface of broken windows. There was no point hiding their location. The monster hunting them could smell them, could probably sense their heat. Any time spent finding a hiding place would be wasted.
His eyes had almost fully adjusted when Cristian warned, “Left.” He heard it, processed it, even understood what was about to happen. He was still unprepared for Cristian’s sudden pivot, the graceful way he redirected Atlas’s motion in the spin, keeping him upright as they burst through a broken wall and into one of the former offices. Behind them, claws and feet slid in a desperate effort to adjust, only to fail. The strigoi’s roar of disappointment and frustration rattled through the building.
“Which way?” Atlas panted as Cristian led them through two more side rooms, slamming rickety doors behind them on the way.
“Window, or risk going through two more offices and out the back exit,” Cristian said.
“Window,” Atlas decided. He grabbed a broken chair off one of the tables. Cristian copied him and they ended up near one of the partially broken windows. “Aim for the top corner,” Atlas ordered, “and watch your face.”
The strigoi had surely corrected its course. The doors were flimsy, would fall to its claws in a matter of seconds, and Atlas knew all of this, but couldn’t allow himself to give in to the fear gnawing at him. They had a chance. Cristian had gotten them a chance, and he’d be damned if he wasted it.
He levered himself up and out of the cleared window with a forearm. Slivers of glass poked at him through his shirtsleeve, but it was better than using his bare hands and leaving behind a blood trail to be followed. His knees wobbled and his legs burned, reminders of the adrenaline wearing off and the shock setting in. He pushed past it and focused on running back around the front of the building. The strigoi probably wouldn’t expect them to double back. And if they got there before it did, there was a straight shot of sidewalk to the car.
They were halfway to the front of the building when they heard the monster’s scream and the clatter of it scrambling out the window after them. They reached the sidewalk in front of the building. They ran for their lives, desperate to reach their final destination. They made it halfway down the stretch before Cristian glanced back. His eyes widened, he started to yell, and Atlas knew what he was going to say before the words formed.
Their pursuer slammed into Cristian so hard they tumbled through a weathered wooden fence and into an empty parking lot near the riverfront. The strigoi skittered over the uneven pavement. Cristian hit the edge of a broken parking block and flipped off in a different direction, rolling to a stop a few feet away from the creature. Both were dazed, each struggling to get up first, and it gave Atlas the opportunity he needed. He wouldn’t lose Cristian.
He rushed the strigoi, lowering his shoulder and bracing for the hit. He ran through the contact, through the sensation of claws digging into his unprotected shoulders, teetering for a horrifying, breathless moment on the edge of the tall concrete retaining wall before plunging into the dark water below.
Cold. Darkness. Pain.
Atlas pushed away from the strigoi, his hands slipping over its skin as it fought against its unexpected submersion. It managed another accidental swipe of its claws against his ribs, but didn’t get hold of him. He forced his way to the surface, broke that final barrier, and gasped, filling his lungs with air in case it seized him and dragged him under.
“Atlas!”
He turned and found Cristian at water level, racing along the low, parallel, maintenance walkway. The river, wide and sluggish from observation above, was stronger than he expected. The slow, inexorable pull of its current tried to drag him farther away from the walls and safety.
“Atlas, come on,” Cristian yelled again.
His new injuries pulled with every stroke. He didn’t dare to put his head fully under water and lose track of the distant splashing of their attacker as he sw
am back. Cristian ran ahead, tracking his progress and angle. He was waiting for Atlas when he finally got within arm’s reach of the wall. Cristian crouched and reached out a hand, snagging hold of Atlas’s arm and dragging him bodily back up onto the narrow strip of concrete.
The shivers wouldn’t stop, no matter how hard Atlas tried to control them. Cristian helped him to his feet. He didn’t remind him to hurry. He simply led them toward the narrow stairs leading back up to the public access. The moment their feet hit the solid ground at the top of the river wall, Cristian steered him toward the car. He’d drifted farther downriver than he thought as they ran past the building they’d tried to escape through. The strigoi’s claws had left deep gouges in the entryway, a grim reminder of how close they’d come to bearing such injuries themselves.
“Keys?” Cristian asked.
Shit. He patted his pockets. “Here,” he said in relief when he found them.
“Good. Get the car going.”
“No,” Atlas protested instantly.
Cristian pushed him toward the vehicle. There was a strange new tension around his mouth as he tried to hide his fangs and his eyes had changed color completely, all dark blue replaced with gold.
“You’re bleeding,” Cristian bit out. “Get in the car. I’ll join you soon.” He cocked his head and listened in the direction they’d just come from. “It’s out of the river. Hurry.”