your word. If you find anything out about where Arthur is, you’ll tell me.”
“Deal,” Frieda said.
Abigail glanced out the window of the small diner. Haatim, her stalker, was leaning against the brick wall across the street, trying his best to act casual.
“I have to go,” Abigail said. “My shadow is here.”
“Someone is tailing you?”
“A nobody. He was hired to follow me a few days ago.”
“By who?”
“You mean it isn’t the Council?”
“They haven’t sent anyone,” Frieda replied. “Yet.”
Abigail wasn’t sure she believed her, but a direct confrontation over it wouldn’t do any good.
“Not sure,” Abigail said. “But my theory is he was hired by George to snap some photos of my killing him.”
Frieda was silent for a moment. “Do you want me to send a team?’
“No, he isn’t a threat,” Abigail replied. “Just a guy in way over his head. I’ll deal with him after I finish Wertman, then head to Raven’s Peak.”
“All right,” Frieda said. “Call me as soon as you get there and—”
“Oh,” Abigail interrupted, curious. “That’s interesting.”
Abigail had just spotted something else, farther up the road from Haatim.
“What?” Frieda asked. “What is it?”
Abigail watched the two men for a few seconds, confirming her suspicions.
“My tail has a tail,” she said.
***
The air weighed heavy in the night, heavy and cold. It was a blanket of icy frost wrapping around one’s soul, suffocating and overwhelming it, threatening to drag it to the pit of despair and cast it in. The night was full of the sort of emptiness that sapped strength and broke a man’s will, filling even the hardiest of hearts with dread.
That was, at least, how Haatim saw it.
Maybe he would admit to being a little melodramatic, but that was how he felt right now, walking alone in an empty alley near Fourteenth Avenue. He had a nagging suspicion that something bad was about to happen.
Of course, that probably had something to do with the fact that he was on abandoned streets in the desolate side of town in the middle of the night. The only defensive item he was carrying was an expensive camera that might make a decent bludgeon, so maybe the fact that his suspicions were only nagging at him wasn’t so bad after all.
The clacking of his hard-soled footsteps was the only sound to be heard this deep in the alley. Normal people steered clear of this sort of place , Haatim knew. Sane people stayed away; not consciously, yet entirely and without hesitation. He liked to think he was sane.
But he was starting to wonder if he’d gotten in over his head. He’d never been to a place like this, let alone this early in the morning (or was it considered late at night?). It made the hairs stand up on his arms and neck, his breath come in short panicked gasps, and his knees weak and wobbly. It was so quiet, so damned quiet. He was certain that at any moment something would burst out of the darkness and drag him down to hell.
Which wasn’t far from the truth. Or, at least, not nearly far enough.
But Haatim didn’t know that.
His footsteps stopped, and a furrow appeared on his dark complexioned brow.
“He—Hello?” Haatim whispered, shredding the stillness of the air with his dulcet tones. “Hello?” and then under his breath: “Where the hell did she go?”
He scratched at his arm as he looked around. He had an open sore just below the elbow, discolored and ugly. It was something he’d gotten a few days ago, though he didn’t remember exactly what had happened. It just refused to heal. It was also itchy and painful.
Haatim heard a scurrying sound and almost jumped out of his shoes, letting out a choked cry. He looked over and saw a rat, completely oblivious to him, running along the wall. It disappeared behind a trash can.
He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding and laughed at himself. Terrified of a rat, huh ?
There was no one else in the alley. The
“Deal,” Frieda said.
Abigail glanced out the window of the small diner. Haatim, her stalker, was leaning against the brick wall across the street, trying his best to act casual.
“I have to go,” Abigail said. “My shadow is here.”
“Someone is tailing you?”
“A nobody. He was hired to follow me a few days ago.”
“By who?”
“You mean it isn’t the Council?”
“They haven’t sent anyone,” Frieda replied. “Yet.”
Abigail wasn’t sure she believed her, but a direct confrontation over it wouldn’t do any good.
“Not sure,” Abigail said. “But my theory is he was hired by George to snap some photos of my killing him.”
Frieda was silent for a moment. “Do you want me to send a team?’
“No, he isn’t a threat,” Abigail replied. “Just a guy in way over his head. I’ll deal with him after I finish Wertman, then head to Raven’s Peak.”
“All right,” Frieda said. “Call me as soon as you get there and—”
“Oh,” Abigail interrupted, curious. “That’s interesting.”
Abigail had just spotted something else, farther up the road from Haatim.
“What?” Frieda asked. “What is it?”
Abigail watched the two men for a few seconds, confirming her suspicions.
“My tail has a tail,” she said.
***
The air weighed heavy in the night, heavy and cold. It was a blanket of icy frost wrapping around one’s soul, suffocating and overwhelming it, threatening to drag it to the pit of despair and cast it in. The night was full of the sort of emptiness that sapped strength and broke a man’s will, filling even the hardiest of hearts with dread.
That was, at least, how Haatim saw it.
Maybe he would admit to being a little melodramatic, but that was how he felt right now, walking alone in an empty alley near Fourteenth Avenue. He had a nagging suspicion that something bad was about to happen.
Of course, that probably had something to do with the fact that he was on abandoned streets in the desolate side of town in the middle of the night. The only defensive item he was carrying was an expensive camera that might make a decent bludgeon, so maybe the fact that his suspicions were only nagging at him wasn’t so bad after all.
The clacking of his hard-soled footsteps was the only sound to be heard this deep in the alley. Normal people steered clear of this sort of place , Haatim knew. Sane people stayed away; not consciously, yet entirely and without hesitation. He liked to think he was sane.
But he was starting to wonder if he’d gotten in over his head. He’d never been to a place like this, let alone this early in the morning (or was it considered late at night?). It made the hairs stand up on his arms and neck, his breath come in short panicked gasps, and his knees weak and wobbly. It was so quiet, so damned quiet. He was certain that at any moment something would burst out of the darkness and drag him down to hell.
Which wasn’t far from the truth. Or, at least, not nearly far enough.
But Haatim didn’t know that.
His footsteps stopped, and a furrow appeared on his dark complexioned brow.
“He—Hello?” Haatim whispered, shredding the stillness of the air with his dulcet tones. “Hello?” and then under his breath: “Where the hell did she go?”
He scratched at his arm as he looked around. He had an open sore just below the elbow, discolored and ugly. It was something he’d gotten a few days ago, though he didn’t remember exactly what had happened. It just refused to heal. It was also itchy and painful.
Haatim heard a scurrying sound and almost jumped out of his shoes, letting out a choked cry. He looked over and saw a rat, completely oblivious to him, running along the wall. It disappeared behind a trash can.
He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding and laughed at himself. Terrified of a rat, huh ?
There was no one else in the alley. The
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