The stairwell echoes with my footsteps. Behind me, Sabine's laughter drifts down like smoke.
"Come back, honey," she calls. "We just want to talk."
I don't believe her. I burst through the door to the street and the cold air hits my face. My heels click against the pavement. I kick them off without stopping, leaving them behind. The concrete scrapes my bare feet but I don't care.
I sprint right, then left, weaving between parked cars. A cab speeds past and I wave my arms.
"Stop! Please stop!"
The driver doesn't even look at me. The red taillights disappear around the corner.
I grab the edge of a trash can and yank it behind me into the alley. It topples with a crash. I vault over a low chain-link fence, my hands burning where the metal cuts into my palms. At the end of the alley, there's a service gate half-closed. I drop to my stomach and slide under it. The rough concrete scrapes my shoulders and back.
I crouch on the other side and count. One. Two. Three.
A shadow drops from the fire escape two flights up. Sabine lands without a sound, her dress somehow still perfect. She tilts her head at the overturned trash can and smiles.
"Creative," she says.
I run.
At the next corner, Lucien appears. He's not running. He's just there, like he folded space to reach me. He blocks one path, forcing me toward the service passages between buildings. I duck into the narrow space. It smells like bleach and damp rot. My breath echoes off the walls.
The passage opens into a small courtyard. A chain-locked gate seals the other side. I grab the chain-link and start climbing. The metal digs into my torn palms. Blood makes my grip slippery. I haul myself over the top and my shirt catches. The fabric tears. I drop hard on the other side, my ankle twisting.
I burst onto a busy street and don't wait for the light. Cars honk. A cab skids to a stop inches from me and the driver leans out the window.
"Are you crazy, lady?"
I'm already past him. My calves feel like stone. The city blurs around me into streaks of traffic lights and neon signs and steam rising from subway vents. I can hear footsteps behind me, matching my pulse beat for beat. Lucien's laughter spirals through the air, and Sabine's sharper echo answers it.
I slip between two dumpsters into a narrow service alley. The air here smells like cold iron and rain. If I can just break their line of sight for three turns, they'll have to hunt instead of chase. They'll have to use their noses, their ears. It might slow them down.
I force my breath to level out. Think. Be deliberate. Don't just run. Herd them where you want them.
I angle toward the dark bulk of the church at the end of the block. I've passed it a dozen times with Lucien. The side door is always propped open at night for the homeless. Night lamps glow through the stained glass. A ladder and bucket sit in the narthex, left by some maintenance worker.
I cross the small square, my bare feet slapping against the cobblestones. The church door is open. I slip inside and the temperature drops. Cool stone. Candle smoke. The smell of old incense.
Busy street’s noise, honking, yelling — all die and for a moment it’s just me and a peaceful quiet of a place of worship—or, I guess, a place of faith, my faith that he is here.
Please be here. Please be here.
Then, my silent prayer is interrupted by a loud drumming of my heart fearing for its life and the noises of those who threaten it. Behind me, I hear them enter. Their footsteps are softer than mine, but they're there.
"Nora," Lucien calls. His voice echoes off the vaulted ceiling. "There's nowhere to go. You're cornered."
I move between the pews, staying low, getting closer to the only other human here. My hand reaches into my pocket. My fingers find the small knife I carry, the one I use to open packages. I always knew where it was, like some part of me was always ready for this.
A woman in a quilted coat walks past me, carrying a small votive candle. She's older, maybe sixty. She doesn't notice me at first.
I catch her wrist.
She turns, surprised. "Oh, I didn't see you there."
"I'm sorry," I whisper.
I draw the knife across her wrist in one quick, mean line. Not deep enough to kill, but deep enough. Blood beads along the cut, dark and bright. The woman gasps. Her head tilts back.
"Help!" she cries out, as I shove her towards Sabine.
She stops mid-step, catching her in her arms. Her nostrils flare. For a second, she looks at the woman, at the blood, at me. Then hunger wipes everything else from her face. She doesn't pretend to hesitate. She folds around the woman like water, her mouth opening wide. The feeding is messy, rapt. She drinks with the sound of someone who's been starving.
Lucien stops behind her. His face goes slack with shock.
"What are you doing?" he shouts. His composure cracks down the middle. "Sabine, stop! Do you know where we are?"
Sabine doesn't stop. She can't. Her hunger is louder than his voice, louder than rules.
"She hasn't realized yet, has she?" I say.
Lucien's eyes snap to me. Then back to Sabine. Understanding hits him like cold water. Terror wipes his face clean.
"SABINE!" he screams. His voice breaks the hush of the church. "We need to run! Now!"
"Too late," says a voice from the shadowed transept.
A hush falls; even the candles seem to lean closer as a figure steps forward, silhouette sharp against stained glass, and the room tightens around a single, terrible possibility now.
A voice none of us have heard before.