I'd have to risk running. I blew out a breath, then scrambled to my feet and ran like hell for the building. Bullets pinged against the pavement behind me, but their presence no longer burned. Perhaps he'd run out of silver ones.
But the mere fact that he was still sighting me when I was running as fast as I was physically able meant he had to be something other than human. To human—even wolf—eyes, I'd be nothing more than a blur. But a vamp could track me through infrared vision.
If it was a vamp up there, it'd have to be an older one, otherwise he couldn't be out in the dusk. I slammed through the building's front doors and ran up the stairs. This apartment block was almost identical to ours—a neglected old warehouse that had been converted to apartments and rented cheap to those who didn't mind living near the freeway. Though this building, being on a corner and facing suburbia, had less inspiring scenery than ours. At least we could see the city and the bridges at night from our apartment.
And obviously there were no werewolves living here, either, because the high-pitched squeal of rats was evident as the little bastards went scampering at my approach. Like I was going to stop and eat one of them.
I continued to pound up the stairs. Six flights left me winded. The rooftop fire escape door was padlocked—which was totally against the rules, but often done in old buildings like these to stop the jumpers. We'd had a few jump from our roof, and it was never a pretty sight. Even a cat-shifter didn't have much luck against that sort of drop.
After wiping the sweat from my forehead with a bloody hand, I stepped back and kicked open the door. It rebounded against the wall loud enough to wake the dead, but no welcoming bullet pinged into the opening.
I blew out a breath, then dove through the opening, my back hitting the concrete hard before I was rolling to my feet and running for the nearest ventilation shaft. Again, no bullets.
Maybe he'd gone.
Maybe he was waiting for a clearer shot.
I sniffed the air, trying to get sonic hint of who and what my adversary was. The air ran sharp with many aromas—including the metallic scent of my own blood—but there was no hint of vampire on the breeze.
I switched to infrared and scanned the rooftop. There was no one here. I was totally alone. I swore softly and rose. No bullets smashed through the air to greet my sudden appearance. My quarry was truly gone.
Cursing softly, I walked over to the corner of the building, going near, but not too near, the edge. At least a dozen shell casings littered the ground. Someone had wanted me very dead. Question was, who? And had they moved up from using cars and trucks to using bullets?
I suspected they had. But why? Certainly there was nothing happening in my private life that warranted such actions, so it had to be connected to a case.
Problem was, I only had two on my plate at the moment, and neither of those were likely prospects. I mean, it wouldn't be our evil soul, because he preferred more direct methods of destruction. I also doubted it would have anything to do with Adrienne's case, because that was getting nowhere fast. And while Blake might be annoyed at my lack of results, I didn't think he'd send hits out on me. Though I had no doubt he could have done so if he'd wanted to. He'd know the right people, if only because he was that type himself.
I left the casings lying where they were—not only because I didn't have gloves but because I knew squat about guns and wouldn't have been able to tell one casing from another—and followed the building's edge, looking for a clue as to where my would-be assassin had gone. I wasn't close enough to see the pavement directly below, and technically six flights shouldn't have had my phobia rising, but the breeze whistling up and over the edge gave a feeling of greater height and my stomach twisted.
I reached the other end of the building. There was a small jump over an alleyway to the rooftop of my building, and someone had not only taken it at speed but had misjudged their landing. Several of the aerials were either bent out of shape or broken. The old cow of an owner would have a pink fit—she loved her TV above everything else.
After a quick glance down at the gap between the two buildings, I backed away from the edge and pressed the corn-link button in my ear.
"Anyone home?"
"Oh joy, it's the bitch," a familiar voice said.
I smiled. "Hey, Sal, welcome back. I missed you."
She snorted. "Yeah, I'm gone a whole twenty-four hours and you're pining for me. Right. What can I do for you, wolf girl?"
"Someone's just taken a potshot at me. With silver bullets."
"So who'd you piss off this time?"
"No one that I know of."
"I find that extremely hard to believe."
So did I, actually. "He missed."
"You do like stating the fucking obvious, don't you?"
I grinned. "He did manage to put a whole heap of holes in your car."
"Well, fuck him."
"Yeah." I took a breath then, with my heart racing a million miles an hour, ran at the edge, and leapt over. It wasn't really a wide gap, no matter what my stupid fears were saying, and I landed on the other side without problem. "The shooter was on the roof of the apartment next to mine. I'm currently on my rooftop and heading down."
"Any evidence?"
"Shell casings. There might be prints."
"I'll send a team out."
"Thanks, Sal."
"You won't be thanking me when you get the repair bill, wolf girl."
I chuckled softly, clicked off the corn-link and walked around to the fire exit. The stair door was hanging off one hinge and swaying softly in the breeze. And what looked to be a footprint was neatly etched into the metal. My attacker was on the small side, if this print was any indication.
I stood to one side of the doorway, studying the shadows and listening for anything out of place. The normal sounds and scents of living drifted up from the apartments below, but the air also held the slightest hint of staleness—the type of staleness I'd long associated with vampires. Though this wasn't as bad as some.
My shooter had definitely been past here, but I doubted he was still hanging around. His scent was fading, and I couldn't "feel" any other nonhuman in the immediate vicinity.
Still, if he knew I lived here, there was no saying he wasn't waiting in the shadows near my apartment.
I ducked around the corner of the broken door, feeling a little foolish but knowing it was better than feeling a little dead. Hell, Rhoan would never forgive me if I got myself killed this easily after everything we'd been through this last year or so.
None of the shadows moved, though, and the darkness hid nothing but dust. Even so, I edged down each step carefully, every sense tuned. No one jumped out at me. Nothing but darkness hid on the fire escape.
When I neared the hallway of my own floor, I hesitated, switching to infrared and scanning the area. Again, nothing.
But the heat of two bodies flared to life in my apartment, and neither the shapes nor the murmuring voices were familiar.
Infrared couldn't actually tell me what race the two people in my apartment were. All it could do was tell me that blood pumped through their veins—perhaps a little faster than what was normal for a vampire, but that was no guarantee one or both of them weren't bloodsuckers.
I studied their images a little longer, fixing their positions in my mind, then padded softly down the hall until I was near my door.
After taking another deep breath and releasing it slowly, I stepped forward, hitting the lock in the sweet spot and springing it open.
Two men spun around, one of them reaching for a gun. He was fast, real fast.
But I was faster.
I blurred, running at him at full speed, snatching the gun from him with one hand and punching his jaw with the other, sending him back and down.