The Stone Warriors: Damian

She hadn't expected that. Fuck, she hadn't expected any real resistance to-night, much less a magical defense worthy of a full-on sorcerer. It took serious power to call up a pair of hellhounds, and it made her wonder if her enemy to-night was more than some random magic-user. The talisman, the thing in her backpack that had started all of this, could be a powerful weapon, one that a sorcerer like— She hesitated even to think his name. But damn, Sotiris would love to get his hands on the talisman. Was that what was happening here? Had their ultimate enemy been behind this all along? Sotiris was possibly the most powerful sorcerer left on earth, and unfortunately, he was just as evil as he was powerful. Keeping artifacts like the talisman away from him was a big part of why her boss, Nick Katsaros, and the rest of the FBI had her hunting them down in the first place. The elevator doors opened on the roof to a slab of cold, damp air and the baying of the hounds. Did they sound closer? Shit. Ducking outside, she made a dash for the big air conditioning unit and hunkered down in its shadow until she was sure the roof was empty. This was her last chance. She had to make it work. With the glock in her left hand, she slung her backpack over her right shoulder, ignoring the stab of pain. It might have made more sense to dump the heavy pack, but it was the talisman that made all of this mess worthwhile. She'd abandoned her gun before she'd leave behind that damn pack. She rushed across the roof and peered over the front edge of the building, bracing her bloody hand on the Kalman Guardian, a statue of a half-naked warrior standing guard with a knife at his hip and a huge sword gripped before him. The statue was a landmark, reputed to be a few centuries old. The warrior it depicted was supposedly life-sized, assuming the man was about six and a half feet tall and built like a fucking god. Leaning forward to scan the street back the way she'd come, she gripped the statue's thick arm. Grit slid beneath her fingers to mix with her blood. Looks like it's you and me, big guy, she muttered. How about breaking that big-ass sword of yours loose and giving me a hand? At that moment her pursuers came into view, a dozen or more guards spread out below with a pair of hounds. That was actually the good news, that there were only two hounds. The bad news was that they'd caught her scent and were baying the message, letting everyone know about it. She still hoped her trick with the broken window across the street would misdirect their hunt for at least a little while. But in the long run, they'd find her as long as she remained on foot. She needed a vehicle, something to cut off her scent trail and quickly get her the hell out of Dodge. Stepping away from the edge of the roof, she paced from side to side, eyeing the distance between the Kalman building and its neighbors. She'd miscalculated. Down on the ground, the roofs had seemed so close together, but up here, with the pavement yawning more than five stories below, she couldn't make that leap. Maybe if she'd been in top form, if she hadn't been leaking blood and running for her life for the last couple of hours, she could have done it. But not tonight. She was going to need a new plan. Going back to the front of the building, she knelt once more next to the Kalman guardian, where she could keep an eye on her enemy. She dropped her backpack to the roof and zipped it open. Gently pushing aside the silk-wrapped bundle of the artifacts she'd stolen, she pulled out a coil of rope and eyed it, mentally calculating whether it would be enough. Looking over the edge as she prepared the rope, she muttered to herself while working out her escape. She'd wait until the hounds had followed her fake trail across the street. Once they were in the other building, she'd run to the back of the Kalman, rappel off the roof, and make a run for it. For the first time. She wished this part of town were more populated at night. It would make it much easier to steal a car if there actually were some on the street below. But she might as well wish for the big statue to come to life. This time of night in this part of town, no one was here, except for the occasional security patrol. And since she'd timed her little burglary to avoid these patrols, they weren't going to do her much good. It was ironic, really, because she'd run this way on purpose, wanting to avoid civilian casualties.