Chapter 21: The Stairwell

I shifted in the aisle, and my sling ripped off my shoulder.

I didn't notice. The pain was somewhere far behind the wolf.

I hit the lobby floor on four gold paws and the crowd split in front of me like water.

Camille was thirty feet ahead, running for the main doors.

She was fast and tall, and she had a head start.

She wasn't going to make the street.

I could smell her, lavender and soap and the sour edge of fear.

I could have followed that scent through a burning building.

The black wolf came up on my right, matching my stride.

Left, I told him. She'll go for the stairs.

She did.

Camille slammed through the fire door at the end of the lobby.

She took the stairwell, because the elevators would have meant a wait.

I followed her in.

The stairwell was concrete and echoing, and she was already a flight above me.

She stopped on the landing, turned and flicked something in her hand.

A lighter.

She held the real Passing against the flame.

Don't! I tried to say, and it came out as a snarl.

The corner of the paper caught.

I jumped.

I took the half flight in one leap and hit her in the chest with both forepaws.

We went down on the landing in a tangle of white dress and gold fur.

The lighter skittered away. The Passing slid across the concrete and stopped against the wall, smoking at one corner.

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