Could the flirty candy striper be the killer? As soon as the thought occurred to him, he dismissed it. He wasn’t the target. Cullen was, and no sensible killer would trap himself in an elevator away from his target. No, he’d be on the fourth floor already, or heading for it on the stairs.
But the fire . . .
He frowned. Why a fire?
It didn’t make sense. Why would an assassin who could wander around unnoticed knock out the electronics and start a fire to get to his target? Did he plan to pick off Cullen as he evacuated?
If so, he was stupid. There were a dozen easier ways to go about it for a killer who could look like anyone. Unless the whole situation was an illusion? Was such a thing possible?
“Can you get it open?” the candy striper repeated, her voice rising. “They say to stay in the elevator if there’s a power outage, but I don’t want to. I don’t.”
He would have to proceed as if the fire, the stuck elevators, all of it was real. Otherwise he’d be frozen, more trapped than any stuck elevator could be. “We need to get out, yes.” Rule managed to keep his voice calm. His forehead was damp, but she couldn’t see that. “I’m going to open the doors and see where we are. I’ll want both my arms for that.”
“Oh. Oh, of course. The doors.” Her laugh was shaky, but she let go of him. “The doors will open, right?”
Was the smell of smoke growing stronger?
“I think so.” He gripped the edges of the doors and pried them open on darkness, smoke, and noise. With the doors open, he could hear people calling out—the stairs, over here, keep calm, where’s Maria, get the wheelchair, Maria!, hurry up, stairs, oh God, oh God, help me, please someone . . .
He looked up. Not that he could see anything, but his nose told him the smoke was coming from that direction. Looking down, he saw equally little. The electricity was out everywhere, then, and the gathering smoke didn’t help. He began feeling the wall exposed by the opened doors.
Yes. There were openings. He could get out.
Relief shuddered through him. His wolf calmed, willing to let the man handle this now that he knew he wasn’t trapped. Rule dropped to one knee, felt for and found an opening.
Both above and below, the doors opening on those floors had sprung open, while the interior doors to their cage hadn’t. In many newer systems—such as the one in Rule’s apartment building—during a power outage the elevator was delivered on battery power to the first floor, where the door automatically opened. That hadn’t happened, yet the doors on at least two floors had opened. And there should be emergency lighting, just as the girl had said.
In other words, the tech was fucked up. “Magic surge?” he murmured. Or something more intentional. Somehow the sorcerer had disabled the hospital tech.
And it was not illusion. Rule refused to believe any crafted simulation could be so detailed, even to the direction of the nonexistent smoke.
If all this was real, did that mean the killer was stupid, or that he was unable to disguise himself for some reason?
The attack on Cullen had been quiet, focused, perfectly executed. Not the work of a stupid man. He’d go with the idea the sorcerer’s illusions weren’t serving him today.
“What?”
“Nothing. We can get out,” he told the girl, rising and finding his companion by guess in the dark. He gripped her arms reassuringly. “We’ve stopped between floors, but the door’s open on the floor below, so we can get to it.” First floor or second? He didn’t think they’d reached the basement, but couldn’t be sure.
“There’s smoke. I smell smoke.”
“It’s coming down the elevator shaft. The fire is above us.” How far up? On the fourth floor? “It’s an awkward drop when you can’t see what you’re doing. I’ll go first so I can direct and catch you.”
“Okay. Okay. Let’s get out. I need to help with the patients. They’ll need help getting all the patients out.”
“Good.” Her sudden bravery in the midst of deep fear surprised him into kissing the top of her head. “Good for you. You’ll do fine. Sit down now. I’m going to swing down, then I’ll catch you.”
Without further words, he dropped to the floor, swung his legs off and out, and landed lightly.
“I’m right here,” he said, taking in what he could with a quick glance. It wasn’t fully dark after all. The smoke had obscured the small amount of light available from the long, narrow window above the nurses’ station.
Second floor. He was on the second floor. Nurses and others bustled, called out, but in an orderly way. “I’m reaching up for you—yes, there you are,” he said as he found one sneaker-clad foot. “Shove off and let me catch you.”
With a little gulp, she did. He caught her easily, setting her on her feet. “You’re on the second floor,” he said. “Can you see? The stairs are at either end of this hall. I have to go.”
“Wait,” she cried as he turned, crouching to get a little spring. “You’re not going back in there? You can’t!”
“My friends are on the fourth floor. I need to be sure they’re okay.”
“But you can’t!”
He did, leaping so he could seize the bottom of the elevator cage. He pulled himself up, stood, and felt for the gap he’d found earlier. The angle was awkward, but it wasn’t hard to pull himself up.
Third floor. Here the smoke was thick enough that he saw little. It was hot. He didn’t see fire, but in the smoke and darkness, he might not, unless it was close. The voices here were more frantic. Someone still called for Maria. He heard coughing. He hesitated, torn—he could help, he could get people out—but his wolf had to get to the fourth floor.
He felt for the top of the elevator. The space was narrow, but he could fit. Quickly he hoisted himself, slithering to the roof of the elevator.
Darkness and smoke. His eyes burned. But the smoke seemed a bit thinner when he stood. Quickly he pulled off his shoes and socks, then seized the cables that held the elevator. He began climbing.
He went up fast, despite the grease that made the cables slippery. He’d climbed greased rope before. Cables were different, but not enough to slow him much.
Rule had decided on this course as soon as he knew the elevator’s position. The stairs would be mobbed with people going down. He had to go up. This was the fastest way . . . or it should have been. When he reached the level of the fourth floor he realized he’d included an assumption in his plan. One that hadn’t panned out.
The doors here hadn’t behaved the way the others doors had. They weren’t fully closed—but they weren’t fully open, either, dammit. There was a dim rectangle of light maybe a foot wide. His eyes were tearing from the smoke, but he could see that pale rectangle.
Like many hospital elevators, this one was deep enough to accommodate a gurney or hospital bed. Rule hung in the center of the shaft about five feet from that dim, tantalizing opening.
He’d intended to get above the opening and launch himself out and down. That would have worked if the doors had opened all the way. As it was, he thought he could have squeezed through sideways—if there had been anywhere for him to stand on this side.
There wasn’t.
He could go back down to the third floor, take the stairs up. That might make sense, but the urgency pounding through Rule kept him hanging there, staring at the opening, gripping hard with his legs to spare his arms, which were beginning to tire.
Same plan, he decided. He’d just have to twist as he fell so he could get an arm and a leg through that opening—and yank himself through. If he missed, well, falling one and a half flights wouldn’t kill him. Probably. Unless he was knocked out and the fire caught him—shut up, he told himself, but his mouth was dry with fear.