security were at stake because of one dumb little bitch and the larva she was about to pop out. Chaos , he realized. But this wasn’t chaos he could manipulate. This time, the chaos was manipulating him .
He wasn’t about to let Crystal beat him. Brandon grabbed the putter off Cole’s bed and dashed into the service hallway, toward the service elevator inside it.
Behind him he heard a series of loud clinks as something clattered on a countertop. “Brandon!” Cole’s muffled voice came from the kitchen. “Brandon, did you move these bottles?”
DING. The service elevator beckoned. Brandon entered then jammed his fingers down on the “door close” button. His old friend called his name twice more before the elevator doors shut him out. Then the sweet hum of the machine whisked Brandon down, down, down.
Rage saturated his mind, as it often did. But he realized he was also feeling an emotion he didn’t often experience: fear. If this all goes to hell tonight, it doesn’t matter , he reminded himself, to calm his apprehension. Nothing matters, nothing matters. I’m indifferent.
All human life was just scripts being acted out. And now Brandon was going to act out his.
•
Past an alligator stalking a white-tailed deer by the shore of its lake, underneath a colony of bats nesting in the canopy above, then finally gliding through the last trees of the park next to the condo, Marcus emerged into the moonlight of the Sanctuary. Most of the African army had arrived by now; thousands of them swarmed above the high-rise, circling, searching. Marcus’s long-awaited vengeance was finally at hand.
In front of him, the metal gate of the condo’s underground parking garage clinked raucously as its gears pulled it upward. A few members of the horde swooped down to investigate, including Shazakahn, their one-eyed leader. They arrived just in time to see a young blonde drive her car around the corner toward the front of the condo. As the gate descended, Shazakahn took the risk and glided inside, a pile of dead leaves fluttering in after him.
The gate clanked shut, and the leader ordered his followers to guard the building’s exterior. Hopefully Shazakahn would remain trapped in the garage and nothing would come of his incursion; Marcus couldn’t abide competition. In truth, the army was only here as backup in the event that Marcus failed in his mission. They hated him, but Marcus had duped them into coming here. No other group of demons in its right mind would enter a Sanctuary, so he knew he could beguile these gullible fools again if necessary.
As he slunk through the foliage around the condo’s east side, prowling, his mind dwelled on a single resolute thought—likely the same thought penetrating the thousands of demonic minds floating in the night sky above.
Where is Thorn?
7
DING. Her purse slung over her shoulder, the red braille book under her arm, Crystal stepped out onto the ground floor and began her walk toward the lobby. The taps of her shoes on the polished marble floor bounced off the walls and through the expansive condo’s curving hallways, stressing to her just how small and alone she was. She hadn’t felt this abandoned since she was nine, living with her estranged aunt while her mom fought countless legal battles to get her back. Later, as she’d worked her way from minimum wage job to minimum wage job, Crystal had toughened up, grown independent and streetwise. But she’d never belonged anywhere until Cole offered to let her move in with him.
Just months ago, this condo had been bright and welcoming: seagulls yammering outside, sand between her toes, salt air from the ocean filling her every breath. It had felt like home. Now, that same salt air reminded her that this glamorous high-rise was just another part of the grimier Miami she knew so well, full of drug dealers, shady meetings in back alleys, fear of falling through society’s cracks, crippled dreams.
The condo’s doors and windows
He wasn’t about to let Crystal beat him. Brandon grabbed the putter off Cole’s bed and dashed into the service hallway, toward the service elevator inside it.
Behind him he heard a series of loud clinks as something clattered on a countertop. “Brandon!” Cole’s muffled voice came from the kitchen. “Brandon, did you move these bottles?”
DING. The service elevator beckoned. Brandon entered then jammed his fingers down on the “door close” button. His old friend called his name twice more before the elevator doors shut him out. Then the sweet hum of the machine whisked Brandon down, down, down.
Rage saturated his mind, as it often did. But he realized he was also feeling an emotion he didn’t often experience: fear. If this all goes to hell tonight, it doesn’t matter , he reminded himself, to calm his apprehension. Nothing matters, nothing matters. I’m indifferent.
All human life was just scripts being acted out. And now Brandon was going to act out his.
•
Past an alligator stalking a white-tailed deer by the shore of its lake, underneath a colony of bats nesting in the canopy above, then finally gliding through the last trees of the park next to the condo, Marcus emerged into the moonlight of the Sanctuary. Most of the African army had arrived by now; thousands of them swarmed above the high-rise, circling, searching. Marcus’s long-awaited vengeance was finally at hand.
In front of him, the metal gate of the condo’s underground parking garage clinked raucously as its gears pulled it upward. A few members of the horde swooped down to investigate, including Shazakahn, their one-eyed leader. They arrived just in time to see a young blonde drive her car around the corner toward the front of the condo. As the gate descended, Shazakahn took the risk and glided inside, a pile of dead leaves fluttering in after him.
The gate clanked shut, and the leader ordered his followers to guard the building’s exterior. Hopefully Shazakahn would remain trapped in the garage and nothing would come of his incursion; Marcus couldn’t abide competition. In truth, the army was only here as backup in the event that Marcus failed in his mission. They hated him, but Marcus had duped them into coming here. No other group of demons in its right mind would enter a Sanctuary, so he knew he could beguile these gullible fools again if necessary.
As he slunk through the foliage around the condo’s east side, prowling, his mind dwelled on a single resolute thought—likely the same thought penetrating the thousands of demonic minds floating in the night sky above.
Where is Thorn?
7
DING. Her purse slung over her shoulder, the red braille book under her arm, Crystal stepped out onto the ground floor and began her walk toward the lobby. The taps of her shoes on the polished marble floor bounced off the walls and through the expansive condo’s curving hallways, stressing to her just how small and alone she was. She hadn’t felt this abandoned since she was nine, living with her estranged aunt while her mom fought countless legal battles to get her back. Later, as she’d worked her way from minimum wage job to minimum wage job, Crystal had toughened up, grown independent and streetwise. But she’d never belonged anywhere until Cole offered to let her move in with him.
Just months ago, this condo had been bright and welcoming: seagulls yammering outside, sand between her toes, salt air from the ocean filling her every breath. It had felt like home. Now, that same salt air reminded her that this glamorous high-rise was just another part of the grimier Miami she knew so well, full of drug dealers, shady meetings in back alleys, fear of falling through society’s cracks, crippled dreams.
The condo’s doors and windows
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