At First Light(Dr. Evan Wilding #1)(100)

Attend my words!

The first time I died was when she died. But I was reborn.

Then I died when Alex died.

Yet even then, I was reborn.

Then, a year ago, I held an unknown child in my hands in the street and watched her blood run on the pavement, and I became someone else. I became something else.

Killer, avenger, sacrificer. Hel’s handguard, Odin’s spear.

Now it is time for the hero-monster to walk out from the ?lwihta eard—the land of monsters.

This time when I die, I will not come back.





CHAPTER 32


The heavens shook out a steady fall of snow as two guys from SWAT led the way up the fire escape. The plan was to go all the way to the roof, then find a way inside and work their way down.

If that was even possible.

Addie followed a decent distance behind so that they spread out their weight, her sneakers squeaking on the damp metal. An equal distance behind her came the stalwart figure of Lieutenant Criver, who looked, in the beam of her borrowed headlamp, as if he’d rediscovered his calling after years behind a desk. As soon as Addie had swung herself onto the fire escape, he’d handed his wool overcoat to an astonished Patrick and climbed after her.

A third member of SWAT would wait at the bottom, ready to go at a moment’s notice.

Somewhere around the third floor, the wind coming off the river turned unforgiving. The snow came at them sideways, and Addie’s gloved hands quickly turned numb, just like her feet in her damp sneakers. Snow crystals formed on her woolen gloves and coat. She followed the lights of the two men above her and, after that first glimpse at Criver when he came after her, she didn’t look down.

She didn’t dare look down. Suddenly rabbit warrens and drainage ditches seemed cozy and safe.

She kept climbing. Fifteen stories. No worries.

Each stair ratcheted up the coiling spring in her gut, and her breath came in terrified wheezes. The first time her foot slipped and she went down on a knee, her heart burst free from her chest to roar in her ears. But she quickly recovered and pressed forward.

She was, to her astonishment, fiercely jubilant. Maybe she was an adrenaline junkie.

Around the tenth floor, the lights of the police above her slowed and then stopped. One of the men called down.

“Stair—miss—here.” His voice came apart in the wind, and he called again. “Stair missing!”

“Got it!” Addie yelled back. She stopped and looked over her shoulder. “A stair is missing up where SWAT is standing.”

Criver’s voice boomed back. “Understood.”

The lights above her began to move again. After a moment, she, too, restarted her ascent. This time, she quickly found her rhythm, and her heart ceased its clamoring. Her gut quieted along with her mind.

After several long minutes, a shout came from up above. The lights of both the SWAT men had disappeared; the top two floors of the silo still hung above her and Criver.

She picked up her pace, gripping the railings hard, setting each foot solidly on each step before moving on to the next one. She reached the missing stair and pointed it out to Criver before stepping over it. She could almost feel the suck of gravity as she cleared the empty space.

Near the top, one of the lights reappeared, and the man waved her forward. When she reached the top, he offered a hand as she stepped away from the staircase and walked onto the roof.

“Beats all, don’t it?” the man said as she looked around.

Her hand flew to the cross around her neck.

A minute later, Criver’s head and shoulders appeared above the roofline; then he swung himself up to stand beside her.

“My God,” he said.





CHAPTER 33


Evan watched Tommy devour a ham-and-cheese sandwich, a platter of fries, and start on an almond croissant in the time it would have taken him to tuck his napkin in his lap and pick up a fork.

The two of them sat at a corner table in the Common Knowledge Café in the Harper Memorial Library, on the building’s third floor. At this time of night, the space was mostly empty—a scattering of students talked or read while a lone barista wiped down tables. Soft jazz played over the speakers. The aroma of someone’s late-night pizza wafted from the kitchen.

Evan had told the campus police where he was and asked them to meet him downstairs in half an hour—long enough, he hoped, to hear Tommy’s story.

When he’d spotted the kid standing in the hallway, his first impulse had been to slam shut the door and turn the dead bolt. Then he’d caught sight of Tommy’s face. Determined. Worried. Probably scared.

“You’re here to see me?” he’d asked.

The kid had nodded. “Because of the bones. And the dead men.”

It was, Evan had to admit, a good hook. Definitely worth a sandwich and fries.

Now he sipped his mint tea—the café’s specialty—and asked, “Does your mom know you’re here?”

“No.”

“You need to call her. She must be worried.”

“I will. I rode the bus here. I don’t like the bus.”

“Understandable. But thank you for coming to see me. If you wish, and if it’s all right with your mom, I’ll drive you home.”

Tommy popped the last bit of croissant in his mouth and nodded as he looked around the café.