Entering the narrow foyer, Angela stood before the inside door. Its glass panes had been smashed in, leaving only the skeletal metal frame, which had been propped open with a brick. Through the doorway, she discerned the deep lobby of the pre–World War II building. Shafts of light shone through the dusty windows from which plywood had been removed and discarded on the floor. She stepped forward, shoes crushing shards of glass, and approached the wide stairway.
Her gaze settled on a flash of red: a fresh rose sticking out of one of the tarnished brass mailboxes along the wall near the stairs. Plucking the short-stemmed flower from its resting spot, she raised it to her nose and inhaled its fragrance. She suppressed a smile and hurried up the stairs, footsteps echoing above her.
No sooner had she reached the second landing than she heard the outside door close downstairs. Moving faster, with all the stealth she could manage, she passed five open apartment doorways through which seeped gray sunlight.
Janus entered the foyer and smiled. The glass lying on the floor lacked a coating of dust. Someone had just recently smashed the glass so he could reach in and unlock the door from the inside. Janus scanned the gloomy interior. The stairway was impossible to miss, and his olfactory senses told him the bitch had gone upstairs. As he climbed the stairs, he took off his coat, allowing it to fall behind him, and unbuttoned the top button of his shirt.
Angela quickened her pace as she ascended the stairway leading to the third floor. She knew better than to look over the banister but couldn’t resist. Two floors below, a shadow elongated across the tiled floor. The shadow bag in its hand made her think of a doctor making a house call. As the Berserker reached the bottom of the stairs, she moved closer to the wall, beyond his sight, and held her breath. The rustling of fabric below grew loud.
On the second-floor landing, Janus shed his shirt and flexed his muscles in the cool, musty darkness. He stepped out of his shoes when he reached the next flight of stairs, where he set down his bag, peeled off his socks, unbuckled his belt, and dropped his trousers. Naked, he ran up the stairs.
Shift, shift.
At the top, he dropped to all fours and sprang forward.
As Angela reached the fourth and final floor, she heard a deep growlbelow her and sprinted down the hallway, unmindful of the noise she made. She heard the scrabbling of claws on the stairs behind her. Seizing one more banister, she glanced up the stairs into darkness. She prayed that Stalk had left the rooftop door unlocked and bolted forward. Behind her, claws raked the floor. With her heart pounding, she charged into the blackness, arms flailing for the door that she knew had to be there.
The air grew stale and oppressive, and she choked back her scream.
Janus ran full tilt after the bitch. Careening around the banister, he glimpsed Angela disappearing into the shadows above as his body crashed into a wall. Without missing a beat, he leapt onto the stairs, her scent filling his nostrils.
With great anticipation, he raced after her.
Feeling hot breath and spittle on the backs of her legs, Angela flung open the door and stared up at the cloudy sky. Spinning around, she saw a heavy shape racing toward her, and she slammed the door on it. The Berserker smashed into the door, bowing it forward. She pressed her palm on the sliding bolt and threw her weight against the door, forcing it shut again. An angry, protracted roar filled her ears as she shoved the bolt into place. She searched the rooftop while the beast lunged at the door once more. The tarred roof led to a brick wall that faced her building. The divider separated it from the next building’s silver roof, which reflected the gray sky. And at the far corner of that roof, she saw the utility shed.
John.
And then the Berserker slammed into the door with such fury that she staggered forward. One dent after another appeared in the door as the sound of pounding filled the air. Sucking in her breath, she ran around the stairway entrance, her shoes scraping tar paper. When she reached the back she heard the door explode off its hinges and skid across the roof.
Janus had soared through the doorway and the air and landed on all four paws. Throwing his head back, he howled, challenging the bitch to show herself.
And then the man emerged from behind the utility shed on the next roof.
Skinwalker
, Stalk thought.
Yee Naaldooshii. Limikken.
In any tongue, a shape-shifter or a werewolf.
The jet-black beast howled, stout muscles rippling beneath its fur.
This is what you came back for
, he told himself. And before the monster had time to locate Angela, Stalk stepped out from behind the shed in plain view of his prey. The skinwalker froze for a moment, as if waiting for him to cower. When he didn’t, it rose on its hind legs, standing a full seven feet tall, and roared its fury.
Stalk did not have time to study the creature’s anatomy, but his mind registered distinct human configurations intertwined with animal features. The beast resembled a perfect fusion of the two species, at once majestic and ferocious. As it narrowed its cunning eyes at him, Stalk raised his bow.
“What is
that?”
Angela said upon viewing the professional hunting bow in her basement apartment in the aftermath of their sex.
“A Diamond Marquis bow,” Stalk said with pride, gripping the lightweight, forged aluminum frame in both hands.
“It doesn’t look like a bow to me.” She examined the high-techbow’s roller guard/string suppresser.
Stalk pulled on the string, demonstrating the bow’s unique balancing system. “Guns aren’t the only weapons that have gotten deadlier in the last two hundred years.”
She looked into his eyes. “What are you planning to do with this?”
“The Comanche believed a wolf should always be killed with an arrow. If a rifle was used, it never shot straight again.”
“You’re not a Comanche.”
“Tom Lenape taught me to look for truth in
all
Indian beliefs. Besides, I saw what happened when that cop shot at the skinwalker in the subway tunnel. He hit it once, then not again. He couldn’t believe it.”
“You can’t seriously be thinking of going up against the Berserker with a bow and arrow?”