“You follow Chase and his people,” I said. “I’m going to the surface.”
“You’re leaving town?”
“No. But we need more information. Chase spent over thirty years searching for the Bell. If we can get our hands on his files, maybe we’ll be able to match it up with Jenson’s ramblings.”
“His files?” She laughed. “And how exactly do you plan to pull that miracle off?”
“I’m going to visit ShadowFire’s headquarters.”
“You’ll die before you get through the front door.”
I grinned. “Who said anything about the front door?”
Chapter 32
It wasn’t the tallest building in Manhattan, not even close. But as I stared up at the towering urban precipice, it looked as if it rose into the heavens themselves.
Rain swirled above my head, soaking my bloodied and mud-caked clothing. I was so damn tired of rain. Tired of Manhattan.
Tired of everything.
Lowering my eyes, I looked around. The sidewalks were clear and the streets were mostly empty, thanks to the storm and the late hour.
Thunder cracked. Lightning ripped across the sky.
It jolted me into action. I sprinted across the street and leapt over a metal railing that separated the sidewalk from the building. As I banged into the wall, my fingers closed around a slippery concrete windowsill.
Kicking my feet against a small, granite block, I struggled to gain traction. But my fingers started to slip.
I dug my fingertips into the windowsill, halting my descent. Pain raced through my hands and I screamed silently. Swiftly, I hoisted my body into a crouching position and jammed myself into the window frame.
I leaned out and slowly traced the building as it lifted into the dark clouds, before vanishing from sight. Scaling the structure was reckless, even dangerous. And climbing it without equipment was downright suicidal.
No ropes. No camming devices. No sky hooks.
Nothing.
Still, I wasn’t unprepared. I knew how to free-climb a mountain. On the other hand, there was something wildly different about free-climbing an industrial mountain. Especially one engulfed with rain and surrounded by powerful winds.
My eyes drifted up and down the skyscraper, mapping out a path. A direct approach looked impossible. Flat granite blocks, thick columns, and smallish windows stood between the top floor and me.
Fortunately, urban cliffs abounded off to the side. I saw window ledges, frames, decorative piping, and ornamental outcroppings. Plenty of opportunities for hand and footholds.
Crouching on the sill, I rubbed my sore fingers. Then I carefully edged out of the frame and grabbed hold of a protruding brick. I pulled my feet onto another brick, keeping two points of contact between the building and myself.
I started to climb.
I moved hard and fast, doing my best to ignore the howling winds and drenching sheets of rain. My fingers and toes danced from bricks to vents to pipes to windowsills. It wasn’t pretty and it wasn’t precise but slowly, very slowly, I ascended the building.
I caught a brief rest at the fourth floor and then again at the sixth floor. Feeling renewed, I headed out again, eager to finish the climb. Eager to at last fully understand the Bell.
Rain soaked my body as I worked my way up a piece of piping to an outcropping. I lifted myself onto it and edged my way toward another pipe.
Suddenly, I heard a crack.
Something crumbled under my foot.
I slipped.
My hands flailed out, looking for something, anything.
Nothing.
Air rushed into my ears.
I felt myself falling.
I thrust my hands at the building and my fingers brushed against a hard surface. I flexed them, forming claws.
Horrible pain shot through my hands.
My body jolted to a halt.
I looked up. My fingers were stiff and extended, wrapped around the edge of a windowsill.
A gust of wind slammed into me. Gritting my teeth, I switched every ounce of strength I possessed into my fingers.
But the wind continued to attack me. My fingers began to weaken. Desperately, I swung my legs to both sides, feeling around with my boots.
Nothing.
Wait. Back there…what’s that?
My left toe returned to the wall. It caught hold of something. I couldn’t see it, but I had no other choice. My fingers were about to give way.
I braced myself against the toehold.
My exhausted fingers wrenched themselves open.
I waited for the inevitable plunge.
But it never happened.
Exhaling, I flexed my fingers a few times. They hurt like hell. I wanted to give them a rest. But first, I needed to get to safety.
Gently, I placed my hands back on the sill. Then I dragged myself upward. After a little maneuvering, I slid into the frame and took a quick look at my hands. They were a mangled, aching mess. I wanted nothing more than to just hunker down for a few minutes and give them a chance to heal.
But then I heard noises.
Footsteps.
They were coming toward me. My eyes shot to the window and I realized there was no shade or blinds. I was exposed.
Totally exposed.
I rose to my feet, and leaned out the window frame. My eyes drifted to the sky. The rain fell faster. The wind continued to push and pull at me with ease.
Jumping up, I grabbed hold of an old air conditioning unit. Pain rushed back into my fingers and it took all my willpower to keep them clenched around the piece of machinery.
I pulled myself out of sight and climbed into another sill. A small part of me wanted to quit, to just climb in the nearest window and hope I could find another way to the top floor. But I immediately disregarded the idea. Between guards and alarms, I knew I’d never make it.
I continued to climb. The wind picked up speed until I could hear nothing else. It slammed against my arms and legs, threatening to rip me from the building. My limbs grew increasingly numb to the point that they stopped hurting. I could no longer feel my fingers or my toes.
And still I climbed.
After what seemed like forever, the dark clouds split overhead. The top floor materialized as if it were the cornerstone of some ancient, forbidden city.
My adrenaline kicked in and I doubled my climbing speed until finally, at long last, I reached the top floor.
As I lifted myself into the last window frame, I felt something in my head. It didn’t feel like one of my incidents though. Instead, it seemed more like a dizzy spell. I wasn’t surprised. My body was exhausted and I’d lost some blood during the climb.
Maybe too much blood.
I took a moment to peer through the glass. But the shade was drawn and it was dark inside. I tried to lift the window but it didn’t move.
I unsheathed my machete. My raw, peeling fingers stung as they wrapped around the handle.
Leaning back, I jabbed the machete at the window. Glass shattered, bits and pieces of it digging into my arm. Wincing, I withdrew the blade and stabbed the window several times, breaking out a large hole.
I reached inside the window, unlocked it, and lifted it up. Quickly, I crawled through the frame and hopped down onto the floor.
My head spun and I leaned against the wall for support. My eyes cast about the space. A bolt of excitement shot through me.
I was in Chase’s office.
And I was alone.
As I rested, I looked around the room. It was exactly the same as I remembered it. A clean desk, an antique desk lamp, a bookshelf, a mini-fridge, a few chairs, and a couple of paintings on the walls comprised its contents. But although it hadn’t changed, somehow it still felt different.