Pure Blood_ A Nocturne City Novel - Caitlin Kittredge [98]
Wind lashed at me as soon as I stepped out of the bulkhead. This high up there would always be wind, and the air sliced into me through my jacket. No idling helicopters stocked with pilots were waiting on the top of the tower, just an empty gravel expanse dotted with HVAC boxes and exhaust vents.
I’m a creature of earth. I don’t generally like to be that far above it. I expected the cast of Die Hard to come rushing by at any moment.
Far below me, a searchlight swept the sky over Waterfront, and a police helicopter chattered over Cedar Hill. I could hear car horns and shouts from the street as if they were right next to me, bounced off the walls of the urban canyon I was on the precipice of.
The only exit that presented itself to me was a small, terrifying ladder disappearing over the lip of the roof. I peered down the slick side of the tower, the windows darkened except for a patchwork of bright ones. There was a thin bar next to the ladder and a ledge barely wide enough for my foot about ten yards down. Some sort of harness clip system, for workers navigating the outside of the tower.
A prefabricated shed was set up a few hundred feet away, marked EMPLOYEES ONLY, and I rattled the door, finding it padlocked. I kicked the padlock off its hinges and swung open the door, finding three neon-orange harnesses and hardhats hanging inside.
I secured myself as best I could, lashing the bag holding the Skull to myself underneath the nylon straps of the safety rig. I eschewed the hardhat—who were we kidding here, anyway?
Without looking at the ledge, I clipped the safety rig’s lead onto the bar and then swung one leg over the roof. I offered a quick prayer to whatever gods might be watching over foolish were women tonight, and started the long climb down.
I don’t know how long I clung to the side of the tower, maneuvering step by step against gusts that seemed determined to peel me off the glass and send me downward like the stray pieces of trash caught in the wind. When I finally touched concrete in the loading area behind the tower, I collapsed and pulled my knees up to my chest, shivering uncontrollably.
The Skull was with me. I had made it out. The next thing I hadn’t thought of was where to hide it—I couldn’t take it home, or to the precinct unless I wanted a fast track to early retirement for psychiatric reasons.
She was going to kill me for this, but it was the only place I knew that I could be absolutely safe—at least until Seamus found out what I’d done.
CHAPTER 29
Soft light beamed from the cottage windows, and I could hear classical music burbling inside. It was only eight-thirty, ninety minutes since I’d entered O’Halloran Tower. Ninety minutes can seem like a long damn time when you’re carting around a priceless artifact, I’ll tell you.
I knocked on the door hard, not caring if I roused the neighbors. Nothing like standing alone on the dead-end beach road with nothing except the moon to illuminate the surroundings to make you paranoid. I swore I could feel eyes behind every bush and telephone pole, just waiting to leap and fall on me.
Sunny opened the door. She was in sweatpants and a stained Pretenders T-shirt. Come to think of it, I’d lost that same shirt a few months before I ran away.
“Sunny, you have got to stop stealing my clothes.”
She cocked her head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. What are you doing here?”
I stepped inside and shut the door. “Is Rhoda asleep?”
“No, she is not,” said my grandmother from the doorway. I rolled my eyes heavenward before turning to face her. Freaking fantastic.
“Nice to see you again, Grandma.”
“It’s late,” she said sharply. “We’re busy.” Grandma Rhoda looks like those old wrinkled pictures you find in junk shops of someone’s pioneer ancestor—a squat body and a stubborn outthrust jaw, topped by