"You need to slow down," the werewolf called up. "You're going to hurt yourself."

He hit the fifth-floor landing, ignored the door and ran up the next flight. Just keep going.

There wasn't much farther he could go. This flight was the last. He lurched for the door. He tripped, his hands flying out, hitting the door. The pain that jolted down his arm was excruciating.

With his good hand, he twisted the knob, but it didn't budge. He yanked on it. Yanked and yanked and –

It was obviously locked. He needed to slow down and do something about it.

There was a deadbolt, but it was on his side, to keep people from breaking in. The lock on the knob was a simple one. He pulled out his fake ID card, pushed it into the jamb, wriggled it and...

The door opened.

Colm pulled open the door and flew through, then reeled back, blinded by the sun.

He was on the roof.

He spun, blinking hard, praying this was a vision that would disappear, leaving him with a cool dark hall and a red exit sign to safety. It didn't happen.

There had to be a fire escape. He jogged the perimeter. Nothing. The door stayed shut. If the werewolf had followed, he should be up here by now.

Colm's cheeks ballooned as he puffed, calming down. Where he'd exited there was a closet-size "room." He could get behind it and hide, then –

Stop planning and move. Act, don't think.

He circled wide to his goal. He needed to get downwind – No, upwind. Or was it downwind?

Stop thinking! Just –

The door swung open.

Colm twisted out of the way.

"Wait!"

A woman's voice. He glanced over to see the Indian girl standing by the open door, her hands up, genuine fear on her face. Fear that he'd jump off the roof and her boss would punish her for losing a clairvoyant slave.

"It's okay." She took a measured step toward him. "It's just me, okay? I only want to talk to you."

They kept saying that, as if by repeating it enough, they'd eventually hit the right note of conviction.

She took another step from the door, her hands still raised. Then she stopped. "I'm going to stay right here, okay?

I'll keep my hands up. You can see I'm not armed. Now, I know you're scared..."

He bristled at that, shoulders squaring.

"You're nervous," she amended. "Concerned about your friend, Adele. She's okay."

So they did have her.

"I mean – We – She got away. Yes, we were following her. But she drove off, so we came back to talk to you."

Couldn't these people open their mouths without lying?

"She parked at the McDonald's a block south of the bookstore plaza, right? In the side lot, near the patio tables. We followed her trail that far, but she was already..." She trailed off, eyes studying his. "Look, I know you don't believe me. I don't blame you. You don't know me and you're sca – worried. But people have died. Maybe Adele has a good reason. I'm sure she thinks she does and I'm not saying she doesn't. But we need to stop it or we risk exposing all of us.

You understand that, right?"

Oh, he understood. Understood that she'd talk and talk until she wore him down. Brainwashed him, like the rest of the Cabal slaves. Like she'd been brainwashed.

"We're not – " She stopped herself and eased back. "My name is Hope Adams. I work for the interracial council. Do you know what that is?"

He glanced around. If he could lure her away from that door before the werewolf found them...

"Do you want to talk downstairs? Or maybe at that McDonald's?" She took a step and he tensed, but she was moving sideways, away from the door. She squinted over her shoulder. "I think the cops are gone. They didn't stay very long."

She craned to see over the edge, but it was too far, so she took another step. Then another. Moving away from the door... He sent up a silent thank-you to the gods.

"I need to be sure," he said.

She started, as if surprised to hear him speak.

He cleared his throat, lowering his pitch a notch, hoping it made him sound older, more confident. "I'll go downstairs, but I need to be sure the cops are gone. Do you see any?"

"Hold on."

She headed for the edge. He counted her steps. At five, he'd run. Two, three...

He squeezed his eyes shut, bracing himself to bolt for the door. An image flashed. The werewolf. Leaning against that exit door, hand on the knob, face tense with strain as he listened.

Colm backpedaled. The girl wheeled, hands flying up again.

"It's okay," she said. "I was just checking..."

He saw her lips keep moving, but the sound didn't penetrate. He was trapped. Well and truly trapped, and a fool for thinking otherwise. A coward, desperately trying to avoid the unavoidable.

He glanced toward the edge of the roof and he knew what he had to do. What the kumpania would want him to do.

What Adele would expect him to do.

Take action. Be a man.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the girl's face paling, her eyes going wide, mouth opening in a shout. He wheeled and ran.

He heard her then, a wordless shout, her shoes crackling in the gravel. He saw the edge of the roof, saw it, and threw himself forward.

Then... nothing. There was nothing under his feet.

His heart seized, shock ramming into his throat as he realized what he'd done. He twisted, arms flying out, praying he could stop this, that she'd save him. He didn't care if that made him a coward. This wasn't what he really wanted.

He saw a figure flying over the edge after him. Not the girl, but the werewolf. Colm reached out, flailing for the man's outstretched hands. His fingers made contact, skin brushing skin. And then...

And then nothing.

HOPE

She knew the boy was going to jump.

Hope saw him look at the edge. She felt his terror. She heard his thoughts. She knew.

Everything they'd done so far had only scared him more, and now, hearing that awful, unthinkable thought, what went through her head was don't move! So she didn't. And in that hesitation, she'd lost him.

He'd bolted. She'd sprung after him. And Karl, on the other side of the door, heard it happen, heard whatever she screamed, and the door flew open and he barreled through and she'd seen his arm swing up, palm going out, thought he was warning her off. Then she felt the blow, his hand slamming into her solar plexus and the wind flying out of her lungs, her feet sailed out from under her and she hit the roof. Then Robyn was there, pulling her up and Hope scrambled to her feet, gaze shooting to the roof edge, seeing not the boy jumping but Karl.