Chapter Thirty

T HE NIGHT WAS cold , and the skies were clear. The roof was covered with air conditioning units, small satellite dishes, big satellite dishes, and a few large water towers. Dulce winced as the door to the roof creaked. She led with her gun, and moved slowly.

The door tried to swing closed behind her, but she got it with her foot. She slipped off a shoe and left it in the gap, preventing the door from locking her onto the roof.

She heard someone talking. Or was it chanting?

Definitely chanting.

For a moment, she thought about going to get backup. But if she left the roof, the men who shot Joseph would definitely get away. She had to corner them, and then get help.

She moved her feet carefully, doing her utmost to remain quiet.

The chanting was coming from the corner of the roof, where there was also an eerie, ethereal glow. It got louder as Dulce moved, as if they were building to a crescendo.

Dulce put her back against a large ventilation unit. Her heart was hammering against her chest.

She leapt out to the side, gun extended, ready to fire.

Only someone fired first.

Dulce felt the blast, and only then saw the sawn-off shotgun at the figure's hip.

The hit impacted Dulce's midsection, and she stumbled back, her legs jellied. She fell to the roof, feeling the tiny rocks against her neck more than her gunshot wound.

The chanting ended.

Dulce heard two voices, faint but distinct.

She turned her head, her vision starting to go black at the edges, and saw two figures with a bag step over the edge of the roof. Only, they didn't fall. They just hovered in the air, standing as if they were on solid ground. Then they started walking in the middle of the air, heading across the street. She watched for a second, hoping she'd start breathing again. Instead, she slipped into darkness.