I grabbed a coat and one of the keys that would let me back in, then I slipped out the front door. I moved slowly, closing it behind me. When the mechanism on the handle whirred and the lock clicked shut, I breathed easier.
Now for the last challenge.
Making it out of the shop without any problems. I was most of the way down the hall when I paused mid-step at the squealing of a hinge. I glanced over my shoulder as a black cat darted out from Señora Rosara’s apartment open door. She stood with her arms crossed over her chest, dark hair in a shower cap, and dressed in silk pajamas.
“You were loud last night,” she said, offering no further explanation as to why she was confronting me in the hallway at the buttcrack of dawn.
“We tried to keep it down,” I replied.
“Hmm.” She pressed her lips together, not liking that response. “Nathalie wasn’t loud before you moved in.”
“So you do know her name,” I mused, tilting my head while ignoring her statement. “And here I was wondering if dementia had kicked in, or if you simply didn’t care to use it.”
Rage flashed in her expression. One moment she was standing at the door, and the next she was right in front of me. Despite my demonic powers and six inches of added height, I had a feeling she could give me a run for my money—if I wasn’t broke.
“Now you listen here,” she hissed.
I held up a hand to stop her.
“Look, before you go on threatening to turn me into a cat, let’s just get this straight. You like your quiet. You like to not be disturbed. Believe it or not, I get that—and I try not to be loud when coming in or out, but we live in a shithole. This entire country is one bad thing away from being classified as hell on earth. Sometimes, shit happens. If you don’t want to hear us, spell the building for silence so you don’t have to. Or soundproof your walls. Or play music—I don’t really care. I’ll never try to inconvenience you, but I’m not tiptoeing around you like she does either.”
Her dark eyes narrowed, and she hummed under her breath once more. “I don’t like you,” she said.
“I’m aware.”
“I told her you’d be trouble.”
“Maybe she needs a little trouble so people will stop walking all over her,” I said with a pointed look, crossing my own arms over my chest. The black cat started winding its way around my legs, brushing up against me. I wasn’t sure if that was its version of begging for help, or if it was warning me about prodding the witch.
The older woman cracked a smile.
“Perhaps.” In the blink of an eye, she disappeared from in front of me and was back at her door. Señora Rosara leaned over and picked up the black cat. It purred loudly, big violet eyes staring at me. “Keep her safe. And don’t drink the coffee, you’ll need it.”
I opened my mouth to ask her what she meant, but the door slammed shut.
I blinked once, the irony of it not lost on me. I shook my head as I stepped into the elevator. The ride was short, and the shop below was empty as I navigated my way through it. A more curious person would look through the various items, anything from voodoo dolls to glowing orbs filled with magic. Shadows moved in this place, though, shadows I was pretty sure were actually her ever-watchful cats. How many she had, I wasn’t sure. But I wasn’t interested in becoming one of them.
I kept my eyes and my hands to myself as I made my way through the crowded shop, careful not to bump into anything. The shop door pealed like wind chimes when I opened it, despite the fact there weren’t any. I stepped outside, taking a second to breathe in the crisp air. The cold heightened my senses. It stripped me of any false senses of security, reminding me to be alert. I stuffed my hands in my pockets and balled them into fists as I walked down the cracked sidewalk. There were a few stragglers out this time of day, but like me, they were minding their own.
Two blocks down, there was a coffee shop that I’d been going to for the last few days. While Nathalie was capable of making the stuff, it was a good spot to watch. To learn. I stepped inside and ordered my usual: black drip, no cream, no sugar.
I waited next to the window at one of the high barstools. The shop was full swing this morning. Not many cafes could boast being packed at dawn these days, but this one could. That’s why I came to it.
Walking all over New Chicago wouldn’t yield me anything but sore feet and possibly getting mugged. Without a job, my cash flow was limited to Nathalie’s generosity and the couple thousand I had in my wallet, which meant paying someone for information wasn’t an option either. That left the only other practical solution when trying to keep a low profile. Listening.
But that wasn’t the only reason I was here today.
No . . . I needed answers, and I needed them soon if I was going to get Ronan to move ahead with the second blood exchange. So here I was, sitting in the crowded coffee shop . . . as bait.
I leaned back, pretending to watch nothing in particular as I stared at the reflection in the window of what was going on behind me. A few figures were milling about next to the pickup counter. That, in itself, wasn’t unusual.
I waited, and when they called my name, I didn’t immediately jump to my feet.
Don’t drink the coffee. Isn’t that what Señora Rosara said? I had to wonder if the old bat had some sort of sight. She didn’t strike me as the type to hire goons to follow me and know where I went every morning when not even Nathalie knew.
A few seconds passed, and when no one reached for the coffee, I frowned.
Sliding off the chair, my sneakers let out a squeak as I landed softly against the cement floors. I strolled over to the counter, not in a hurry. The barista’s back was already turned as she started on the next drink, leaving it up to me to claim mine or have it stolen.
I grabbed the cup, wrapping my fingers around it. The heat warmed my numbing fingers through the cardboard hand holder. Instead of going back to my seat and listening to the latest gossip about the Underworld and New Chicago, I stepped outside.
Wind rattled the windows as it funneled down the tight streets, bouncing off of building fronts as it looked for a way out. I turned left, going in the opposite direction of the apartment.
My heart rate picked up, but deep, even breathing kept it under control. My feet moved on their own accord, knowing not to go too fast or slow.
I was careful not to fidget much, and even if I couldn’t be at ease, I could pretend I was. Stuffing one hand in my jacket pocket, I wandered aimlessly, pretending to have a destination in mind.
Only when I felt eyes on me did I start to actively look at where I was going.
I needed somewhere quiet. Undisturbed. Something like . . .
Bingo.
I paused at the edge of the sidewalk, not looking behind me, though I sensed someone there. I crossed the street quickly and then slipped in the alley.
Luck was with me for once in this shitty life. There was a door at the end with a flickering light over it. I started for it like that was my destination, trying not to slow too much. I made it halfway there, watching the wall beside me out the corner of my eye.
One second my shadow was alone. The next, there was a second one behind it.
I pulled my hand out of my pocket and reached up to pull the lid off my coffee.
The shadow behind me paused.
I leaned forward like I was inhaling the scent of my coffee and hummed happily when I saw them creep forward.