Chapter Twelve
People used to say I was crazy for trying to pick up all the skills I gave to Dominique.
They would tell me most people would never notice that I put a pistol in the wrong kind of holster or that you could not use a credit card to unlock a deadbolt.
But hah, I had proved all of them wrong.
I mean, in their defense, who could have predicted that I would be sometime using those skills to help me find an ancient history of a race of shapeshifters?
I was still amazed that my sister had extrapolated the correct location of the Book of Tales.
She was the most talented and chaotic person I knew.
I would not have thought they would have kept it in the St. Louis public library.
It makes sense in the “hide things in plain sight” kind of way, but I would have made a different choice.
Well, they had not asked me, and if I was successful this evening, they might reevaluate their decision-making paradigms.
I took a last look at my makeup in the bathroom mirror and softly opened the door.
The hallways were dark, except for the occasional glimpse of a security guard’s flashlight.
It did not look like anyone was in my immediate area, so I went back into the restroom and got into one of the stalls.
I popped up the ceiling tile next to the intercom speaker and grabbed the wires leading to it.
I used a knife to strip the casing and attached a small device that I had gotten from a professional security expert who had a former career.
I would tell you more, but I promised I would keep his name out of all this.
I pulled out my cell phone, clicked on my newest application, and heard the speakers crackle to life, then quickly shut them off.
Breaking and entering, turns out there is an app for that.
I replaced the ceiling tile and, after checking the hallways again, slid out.
I had always liked being sneaky back when I was a kid, but now that I had a true talent for it, the stakes were too high to enjoy it.
I crept up a back stairwell to the rare books section and took a quick look around.
The hallway went in several directions, but only one of them had a door with two exceptionally large security guards standing in front of it.
I figured hiding in plain sight would only be taken so far.
I pulled my hair back in a ponytail to make my face more visible, then stepped out and walked straight forward.
“Hold it right there, Wolf-clan.”
It was nice to know that I had been able to duplicate my sister’s clan markings. There was not much point to this if I could not still pass for her.
“My lord Lycos demands the Book of Tales, and whatever he asks, Nisha of the wolf clan will do.” Okay, I know it sounded a little hokey, but I was going for fanatical.
As I marched forward, I slipped plugs into my ears, so I missed the security guard’s exact impression of my acting ability.
But I saw him and his partner pull out a pair of nightsticks, so I was fairly sure what it was.
I pulled my smartphone out of my pocket and keyed in the annoying ringtone that was too high-pitched for people to hear, but animals could—or people with animal-like senses.
I pushed the volume up to ten, and the tone reverberated through the overhead speakers throughout the building.
The two guards clutched their ears, and I moved forward, pulling two spray canisters out.
They were filled with a mixture of mace, ground-up poison ivy, and bear deterrent.
I sprayed them directly into their faces.
They began to thrash back and forth, their hands scratching over all their heads as they tried to combat both assaults on their senses at once.
I ducked and bobbed around them for a few moments before I was able to grab the keys from the first guard’s belt and rushed for the door.
It took trying several keys, but the door opened.
There in the center of the room was a large leather-bound book and a wizened old man sitting next to it with his hands over his ears.
I grabbed the book, threw it in my backpack, and sprinted back the way I came.
As I reached the stairwell down, two guards came out and looked at me.
They seemed to be unaffected by the sound, so I assumed they were just run-of-the-mill rental cops.
I think they assumed I would turn and run the other way, but I dropped my shoulder and slammed into them, sending the three of us through the stairway door.
They took the brunt of the impact against the cold iron railing of the stairway and slumped to the ground.
I grabbed the railing and flipped over it, taking the two-story drop like it was a matter of feet.
The move had been instinctive. I apparently had come some way from running parkour in New York.
I could get used to this “cats always land on their feet” thing.
I pulled my phone out and shut off the tone.
I removed my earplugs, and the blaring sound of the alarm system entered my hearing. Well, so much for the stealth approach.
I exited the stairway on the first floor and came out into the regular collection.
Carts full of books waited to be redistributed, and I grabbed one of them, pushing it in front of me as I ran.
I came around the corner to the side entrance, and there was one of the large guards, his face splotchy and looking terribly angry.
I sped toward him with the cart in front of me, and he rushed to close the distance.
As we grew closer, I tossed the cart on its side toward him.
He reacted in the only way he could and leaped over it.
I dropped onto my back, and as he flew through the air, I kicked out, letting my legs add their force to his momentum and sending him down the hall.
He crashed to the ground, but he took no real damage.
He recovered quickly, and we both regained our feet at about the same time.
But I had accomplished what I needed to; he was no longer between me and the exit.
I sprang over the downed cart and turned my head as I impacted the glass door, not waiting to try to open it.
The impact sent a shudder through my frame, and I felt like I had picked up at least a couple of scrapes and cuts, but I was out.
Now, the thing about parkour is everybody is always saying how amazing it is that people can do those jumps and flips, but the point of all that is about speed.
I looked over the area, and my mind instantly traced out a route, and I was off.
I ran, then leaped, kicking off a bench to propel me to the top of the statue out front, then vaulted to a streetlight, from where I sprang to a nearby fire escape, and after that, I was off to the races.
I traveled a couple of miles, crisscrossing my trail before reaching my true destination, my editor Jacqueline’s office.
She had given me a key so that I could turn in pages any time I wanted since when I was writing I usually kept unusual hours.
She had a high-speed scanner since I still liked turning in my drafts as hard copy.