Molly hesitated, wishing a Palan flood upon the place. That miserable weather phenomenon would be a blessing for the alley. Squinting into the distance, she thought she saw someone turn a corner half a block away, but she couldn’t be sure.

“Drenards!” she cursed.

Walter skidded to a stop beside her. “Sslow down—” he complained.

“Hold her,” Molly said, handing him the Wadi so her claws wouldn’t be a concern. After he took the animal, Molly set off in a full sprint toward the corner she thought someone had moved around, berating herself as she ran for not bringing a flashlight. Pumping her legs, she weaved around the dumpsters, her boots growing heavy as the treads collected mud made of dust and discarded cooking grease.

Around the corner, she came to a halt. Another alley—long, narrow, and empty—stretched out before her like an urban canyon. The high buildings on either side blocked out all the streetlights; they rose up so far they seemed to be leaning in on one another.

Molly called down the passage: “Cat? Hello? Anyone?”

She stepped into the narrow crack between the two buildings and peered toward the shaft of light at the far end. The light seemed to come from the streetlamps of a busy road; they pulsed as shapes moved across them, headlights blooming and receding behind the silhouettes of a conveyor-like crowd.

The din of nighttime activity seemed the logical place to find a pub, but the dark alley made it seem so very far away. Despite her sense of urgency to catch up with Cat, Molly moved through the alley slowly. She could feel raw, childlike fear creep up her spine. She silently urged Walter to hurry and catch up.

As she crept deeper into the darkness, she felt internally torn. The impatient part of her urged her to hurry after the woman she’d spent two weeks searching for, but the fearful part of her begged to run back, to get out of that dark alley. She pleaded with Walter to come faster, for some physical company to wave away the creepiness. She was a dozen meters into the dark space when she finally heard him pad up behind her in his near-silent way. She turned and groped in the darkness for Walter, whispering his name . . .

But all she seized hold of was the bad thing reaching out to grab her.

16

Byrne nodded to the two goons holding Cole in place, and the men lifted him to his feet. They shoved him forward and presented him like a trophy. Cole and Byrne faced each other, one man with his arms strapped behind his back, the other lacking them altogether.

It made for an awkward moment.