itself on counterweights so that I could use the steps. Instead, I hung there, swinging from the underside of the rail from the cold steel bars. Shifting my weight between my hands, I felt above me, finding nothing to hold so that I could pull myself upwards.
While I didn’t have anything like the reaction to steel that I had to iron, it wasn’t the easiest thing to hang from, not helped by the dull throb from my recent encounter with a van. The metal felt intensely cold, and I could feel a spreading ache seeping into my muscles. I dropped back to the dumpster with a booming thud. Perhaps the mechanism had been designed specifically to prevent it being used as an aid to burglary. Perhaps I needed another approach. I jumped down from the dumpster and hauled it out of the way.
Scanning up and down the alley, I listened for signs that I was being observed. I stepped across the alley, putting my back against the wall opposite so that I could see where I wanted to be. I deepened the glamour of concealment, and then opened the well of power within me. The air around me chilled even further and the wind whipped down the alley tumbling empty cardboard coffee cups and discarded carrier bags along. I drew power into me, watching the lights in the surrounding flats dim and flicker. I felt the emptiness within me dilate as more power poured into the well at my core.
Gradually the world took on a papery thinness, as if it were made only of images painted on insubstantial shadows. Walls became translucent, so that I could see the shifting shadows of people moving within. I stared up at Claire’s balcony, focusing on that point, and stepped forwards. The world flashed white and then was quiet. I turned and could look down to where I’d been in the service alley. On the walkway above me, a door opened and someone walked along the metal walkway. There was a sharp tapping. A door opened.
“It’s only me,” said a female voice. “Is your electric all right? Mine is going on and off.”
A male voice answered. “No, mine too. It’s back on now, though.”
“I thought it was gonna go off for good,” said the first voice.
“Seems to be OK now,” said the man.
“I’ve got some candles if you need them. They’re scented ones, but if you need some I’ve got plenty.”
“I’m fine thanks.”
“Am I interrupting something?” said the female voice.
“I was just sitting down to supper,” said the male voice. I could hear the blatant lie in that. From the tone, I was surprised she couldn’t.
“OK then. I’d best be getting back.”
“See you, then.”
I heard the footsteps padding back to the door above me, and then the door closing. The man’s door closed too, but I thought for a moment I could hear the faint sound of giggling coming from the man’s flat, though not in a male voice.
I set that aside and peered through the window into Claire’s flat. The windows were shut, and there were no lights inside. There was a fire exit off the kitchen and I pressed my hand to the door, wary of booby traps. Claire knew to protect herself from intruders – especially ones with my abilities.
The door clicked and I eased it open slowly, opening my senses to the dim interior. What hit me first was the smell – a stuffy, foetid aroma that jarred with my memory of the flat. It had been spotless when I’d been here last, and I couldn’t imagine her leaving it otherwise.
I stepped inside, leaving the door ajar for the fresh air more than anything else. The interior was dim, but I could see marks on the walls that hadn’t been there before. I weighed the risk for a moment, and then clicked on the light. I didn’t fancy exploring the flat in the dark.
The glow from the energy-saving bulb gradually increased. Now that I could see, my heart sank. There was a long streak down the wall, as if someone had fallen backwards, trailing their hand down the wall while it was covered in brown paint. Except I already knew it wasn’t
Sara Benincasa
Rachel Wise
Selena Kitt
Catherine Coulter
Curtis Jobling
D. J. Holmes
R. E. Butler
Heather Allen
Mark Florida-James
Zoë Wicomb