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arboreal_priestessThe stress and tension of the last few days was really starting to get to Verity. She found herself grumpy and irritable, snapping at people as she stalked through the Nest. Eventually, she realized what she needed: a quick run, up through the rooftops of Baltimore, just long enough to clear her head. Give her a chance to work through all the thoughts sloshing through her brain hard enough to give her a low-grade headache, like a small buzzing at the base of her skull.
Hell, she felt better just as soon as she made the decision to run. Pulling on her running shoes, she bounded down the stairs, calling out to everyone that she was going out for a few hours. Almost as an afterthought, she paused by the table where they'd left Margaret's weapons, picking up the telepathy-blocking charm and dropping it into one of the pockets of her backpack. Verity had a vague idea of maybe heading over to the Freakshow. Bogeymen are some of the best information brokers and rumormongers in the world. Kitty might know how the thing worked, and better, how they could counter it. What's the point of having a telepathic early warning system if you couldn't use it?
The stairs beckoned her upward, but she forced herself to ignore them, walking instead to the door leading out to the small, enclosed courtyard. Much as she hated to start any journey on the ground, Verity didn't want to risk attracting attention by taking the same path too many times. That meant starting from a different rooftop. She crossed the courtyard to an abandoned bodega, and from there, made her way out to the street.
She kept close to the buildings as she walked, looking for a good route upward. She found it about three blocks away from the Nest, at a corner that seemed to be in deeper shadow than most of the others, where the cornices of the building formed an almost perfect series of handholds. Verity glanced around once, making sure that no one was looking at her, then reached up, and started to climb.
There was a security on the rooftops of a major city that she never felt anywhere else, a feeling like she could run forever if she had to. The city limits always loomed, but no one could chase in a straight line across the slope of that much disparate architecture; there was always a chance to double back and find another way. It would take an army to take her out when she was that far above the street.
She let the joy of the run clear her mind, the last of the headache fading as she ran across the rooftops. She just let herself run for almost ten minutes, the jumps and stretches and leaps grounding her better than anything but the tango ever had. She was so lost in it that she misjudged the drop as she leaped from one roof to another, landing harder than she intended to. She caught herself with her hands before she could face-plant on the roof. The gesture cost her a lot of momentum, and rather than trying to get started again, she let herself skid to a stop, turning her feet to the side to increase the friction. Once the last of the inertia had bled off she straightened, looking around.
And realized she had no idea where she was.
Which was not just weird, it was impossible. She knew the way to the Freakshow well enough to find it in her sleep. It didn't matter how little attention she'd been paying to where she was going; her feet knew how to get there from almost any point in the city. So where the hell was she and how had she gotten here instead of where she'd been trying to go? She walked to the edge of the roof, looking down. There were a few people on the street, and the ubiquitous taxis slid endlessly by, but everything was silent, or as close to silent as Baltimore ever got. It was a real cinematic moment, the sort of thing that normally only exists in movies.
The sound of a gun being cocked somehow managed to fit right in. Verity stiffened. "Hello," said Margaret from behind me, her sharp British accent somehow turning that single word into a threat. "I was wondering when you'd arrive."
Then her gun caught Verity across the back of the head. She had just enough time to realize that she'dd done something completely stupid - and that wasn't like her, what the hell was she doing? - before she fell. The last thing she heard was the sound of her own body hitting the rooftop, a heavy, wet thud, like a sack of cement being dropped.
Then there was nothing.
[Adapted from Midnight Blue-Light Special by Seanan McGuire. NFB, NFI]
Hell, she felt better just as soon as she made the decision to run. Pulling on her running shoes, she bounded down the stairs, calling out to everyone that she was going out for a few hours. Almost as an afterthought, she paused by the table where they'd left Margaret's weapons, picking up the telepathy-blocking charm and dropping it into one of the pockets of her backpack. Verity had a vague idea of maybe heading over to the Freakshow. Bogeymen are some of the best information brokers and rumormongers in the world. Kitty might know how the thing worked, and better, how they could counter it. What's the point of having a telepathic early warning system if you couldn't use it?
The stairs beckoned her upward, but she forced herself to ignore them, walking instead to the door leading out to the small, enclosed courtyard. Much as she hated to start any journey on the ground, Verity didn't want to risk attracting attention by taking the same path too many times. That meant starting from a different rooftop. She crossed the courtyard to an abandoned bodega, and from there, made her way out to the street.
She kept close to the buildings as she walked, looking for a good route upward. She found it about three blocks away from the Nest, at a corner that seemed to be in deeper shadow than most of the others, where the cornices of the building formed an almost perfect series of handholds. Verity glanced around once, making sure that no one was looking at her, then reached up, and started to climb.
There was a security on the rooftops of a major city that she never felt anywhere else, a feeling like she could run forever if she had to. The city limits always loomed, but no one could chase in a straight line across the slope of that much disparate architecture; there was always a chance to double back and find another way. It would take an army to take her out when she was that far above the street.
She let the joy of the run clear her mind, the last of the headache fading as she ran across the rooftops. She just let herself run for almost ten minutes, the jumps and stretches and leaps grounding her better than anything but the tango ever had. She was so lost in it that she misjudged the drop as she leaped from one roof to another, landing harder than she intended to. She caught herself with her hands before she could face-plant on the roof. The gesture cost her a lot of momentum, and rather than trying to get started again, she let herself skid to a stop, turning her feet to the side to increase the friction. Once the last of the inertia had bled off she straightened, looking around.
And realized she had no idea where she was.
Which was not just weird, it was impossible. She knew the way to the Freakshow well enough to find it in her sleep. It didn't matter how little attention she'd been paying to where she was going; her feet knew how to get there from almost any point in the city. So where the hell was she and how had she gotten here instead of where she'd been trying to go? She walked to the edge of the roof, looking down. There were a few people on the street, and the ubiquitous taxis slid endlessly by, but everything was silent, or as close to silent as Baltimore ever got. It was a real cinematic moment, the sort of thing that normally only exists in movies.
The sound of a gun being cocked somehow managed to fit right in. Verity stiffened. "Hello," said Margaret from behind me, her sharp British accent somehow turning that single word into a threat. "I was wondering when you'd arrive."
Then her gun caught Verity across the back of the head. She had just enough time to realize that she'dd done something completely stupid - and that wasn't like her, what the hell was she doing? - before she fell. The last thing she heard was the sound of her own body hitting the rooftop, a heavy, wet thud, like a sack of cement being dropped.
Then there was nothing.
[Adapted from Midnight Blue-Light Special by Seanan McGuire. NFB, NFI]
