Chapter 18
The rain hits me the moment I push through the Overton's front door, cold and immediate. I welcome the sensation, a reminder I’m alive and there is a world outside Eleanor’s unholy tower.
I look across the street and stop.
He's there. The strange old man in black who was standing on this sidewalk the other day, watching the building with intense focus.
His rain-soaked coat pasted to his scarecrow frame. Still as the stone figure I've been tracking across the city's rooftops.
Anger flashes through me, and I cross the street despite my fear.
Maybe I can’t face winged demons, but I can get into this creeper’s face.
He watches me come without surprise. Doesn’t budge. Like he welcomes the confrontation.
Up close, he's worse than he looked from the lobby. Wide bulging eyes that have been awake too long. A coat carrying the evidence of a life lived without shelter.
His eyes go to my throat. I realize he’s looking at the crucifix.
Something moves across his face. Sadness, I think.
"You wear the cross," he says. "Your mother tried so hard to protect you."
I go still. Not the response I expected.
“Do I know you?"
He looks at me with an expression that is not curiosity. It's recognition. "No." A pause. "But I knew Eleanor.”
My guard comes up. "Who are you?"
His gaze drifts upward. Over my head, over the Overton's facade, toward the roofline thirty stories above us. Then he looks back at me.
"You should never have come here," he says. "Never moved into her apartment."
"Excuse me?"
"Margaret kept you away from this place for a reason. She wanted you to have a normal life. That's why she left when she did." A pause. "Eleanor never forgave her for it."
The rain between us. The thunder somewhere to the south now, moving away.
"You knew my mother."
He nods once.
"She understood the darkness Eleanor welcomed into her life. Understood it better than anyone, because she grew up inside it." He looks at me with those exhausted eyes. "And she spent the rest of her life making sure you didn't."
"Who are you?" I say again. "Why have you been watching this building? Why are you—" The anger finds its edge now. "People are dying. Three people are dead, and they're all connected to my grandmother, and if you know something?—"
"It wants your soul, Sara."
The rain pricks my skin as I stare at him. "What are you talking about?"
"The evil that lives on your roof. It remembers her blood."
Thunder rolls overhead. I look up before I can stop myself, at the rooflines, the parapets, the darkness above the building's highest floor.
When I look back, he's already moving.
I fumble my phone out. Get the camera up. He's almost at the corner. Shit! I zoom in, catch his face in the last second before he's gone.
I stand on the rain-slicked sidewalk, my heart still going too fast as I stare at the creeper’s photo on my screen. The city moves around me like nothing happened.
I text the photo to Paul.
This man knew my mother and Eleanor. Need to know who he is.
Three dots. Then: On it. Come over. Get away from the spookiness.
On my way, I text back.
I step off the curb and raise my hand for a cab.