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THE DOOR SWUNG OPEN in a smooth arc, betrayed only by a slight protest from its rusty hinges. In a split-second, Aubrey saw the silhouette of a hulking body in the doorway.
The Soul-less. Her stomach lurched in horrified recognition as both hands shot up to cover her mouth. She couldn’t move or scream. Terror robbed her of both voice and motion. There was no pause in the action in the doorway, no time to react.
The huge body leaped with the murderous stealth of a panther, vaulting over the wooden railing.
Aubrey caught a fleeting glimpse of its wide-spread arms. It caught Jane and Aubrey in its crushing grasp, slamming them both to the ground with enough force to drive the air from their lungs.
Aubrey felt the oppressive pressure of its weight, planted square in the middle of her back, pinning her face-down. She gasped, fighting for breath, and her panic escalated as she realized her efforts were wasted.
Her cheek was scraped raw by the pebbles in the alley, and all she could see—in absurdly precise detail—were small tufts of grass scattered here and there in the dirt and gravel.
Isn’t my life supposed to flash before my eyes? Darkness crept into the outer fringes of Aubrey’s vision, a cruel harbinger of the waiting embrace of oblivion. Is this the last thing I’ll see before it kills me?
The weight on her back shifted, grinding her further into the gravel. The blackness slithered further into her peripheral sight, joined by discolored spots, and she thought she heard a buzzing sound inside her head.
Be thankful for small mercies. She resigned herself to the inevitable. At least I’ll be unconscious when it rips my Implant out.
Then came an incredulous voice, hushed but undeniably human. “Jane? Where did you come from?”
The weight on her back lifted, mercifully, and Aubrey sucked in desperate gasps of air. Her vision was blurry, and everything appeared to be filtered through a dark haze, shimmering before her eyes.
The buzzing noise in her head began to fade, and she became aware of someone kneeling beside her, massaging her bruised ribs.
“Take it easy.” It was a feminine voice, soft and reassuring. “Just get your wind back. You’re going to be fine.”
The massage seemed to be helping, and the voice couldn’t belong to the monster who’d tackled her.
“Thanks for not breaking my neck, you idiot.” Jane’s growling rasp was at its most acidic. “What’s the matter—you can’t tell the difference between a Tracker and a Runner?”
From the sounds of it, Jane was also fighting to refill her lungs, and Aubrey felt an odd sense of solidarity with her. You tell ‘em, Snake Lady.
“You’re lucky I didn’t have time to pull my blade. Otherwise, you’d be doing your best impression of the Headless Hoarder.” The target of Jane’s fury, his voice a laconic baritone, didn’t sound fazed by Jane’s hostility. “Didn’t your mama teach you to knock first?”
Aubrey struggled to sit up, determined to know what was happening. The woman kneading her ribs helped her to sit, and then to stand, steadying Aubrey with a grip on her arm.
They were roughly the same height, but there was no mistaking the strength in her grasp. Wow. All these women have hands of steel.
The small stoop behind the café was crowded with other figures, all surveying the two new arrivals with expressions of relief, curiosity, and disbelief. The moonlight painted the improbable reunion with an otherworldly glow.
“Who are you people?” Aubrey raised her voice, her anger boiling over. She was frustrated by her weakness compared to the toughness of those around her. Angry at her rough reception moments earlier.
And enraged—she hadn’t realized just how much resentment was building inside her—at the whole ludicrous situation which had up-ended her world and almost gotten her killed several times already.
They were all staring at her, none of them answering her challenge. Aubrey glared at them, breathing hard. “I said, who are you?”