“Yeah. You’ve never heard of it?”
I shook my head and continued climbing the steps.
“Parkour is like a form of exercise, except it’s so much more than that. I guess you could consider it a form of training.”
“Training for what?” I reached for the fourth floor door.
“Combat,” Drystan answered in a clipped, matter-of-fact tone.
I paused as I pulled the door open. “Combat? Who do you plan on fighting?”
Drystan’s serious expression melted away. “Nobody, I hope. It’s meant to be defensive more than offensive.” He shrugged. “Parkour came in handy from time to time back home.”
“For exercise?”
“Among other things,” he said dryly.
Drystan was an open book with hidden passages. “I’d like to see this parkour.” My tense shoulders relaxed the moment we walked into the room and the motion sensor lights popped on, illuminating the dark room.
He tilted his head, contemplating. “It’d be much easier to show you than try to explain it.” Drystan grabbed my hand and squinted at the scribbled note clutched in my fingers. Releasing his hold, he pointed to a MICFICH sign hanging down from the ceiling at the back of the thirty-by-thirty room filled with tall bookshelves. “Guess that’s the section you want back there.” His brow puckered. “Do you know how to work the machine?”
“I’ve used one before.”
After I’d spent twenty minutes riffling through the microfiche bin for the article I was looking for, I sat back in my chair and huffed my frustration. “I can’t believe it’s not here. The microfiche with the one article I want seems to be missing.”
Drystan’s head popped around the edge of the bookcase. “You couldn’t find it?” He’d been wandering around the stack, humming various Welsh songs I didn’t recognize while I searched through the entire year of articles.
“No.”
He squatted down beside my chair and held out his hand. “Let me see where it’s located.”
“I’ve looked through the entire section.” I pointed to the paper with the article’s supposed location lying on the desk.
Drystan picked up the piece of paper, then rubbed his thumb across the numbers several times, his gaze focused on my chicken scrawl.
I snickered. “It’s not going to grant you three wishes.”
His green eyes flashed amusement as he grabbed the bin from my lap. Flipping past the section I’d looked through twice, he skipped to an entirely different year, then pulled out a handful of microfiche. He quickly fanned through the stack before pulling out a thin square of plastic with a triumphant smile. “Here it is. This whole section had been filed in the wrong year.”
I gaped at him. “Um, thanks.” As I took the microfiche from his hand, I saw that the plastic edge was labeled with the year I’d been looking for. “How in the world did you know it would be there?”
Even more amazing, how did you know that this particular microfiche held the article I sought?
There were at least ten other misfiled microfiche he could’ve chosen from. Only a machine could read the microscopic print.
Maybe he was just guessing, I told myself as I slid the microfiche under the lighted viewer, then began to scroll through the articles. When I slowed to a stop at the article I wanted, Drystan peered over my shoulder, reading out loud in his lilting accent, “‘Crows and Ravens All Over the World Fall Out of the Sky: Biologists Speculate.’” A pause. “That’s a right strange subject. What’s it for?”
I tensed, not planning to share the reason behind my research. I cast a suspicious sideways look his way. “Not any stranger than you finding it without x-ray vision. Seriously, how’d you do that?”
“Talent.” Just as Drystan gave a confident grin, a song began to play. I smiled when I recognized his ring tone as one of the Welsh songs he’d been humming.
He grabbed his phone from his back pocket. “’ello? That’s brilliant! I’ll pick it up on my way out—Oh? Okay, then. Be right down.”
Hanging up, he started to walk backward. “The media room closes in five minutes. I’m gonna run and grab my flash drive. Be right back.”
Glad for some brief privacy, I waved him on, then turned back to read the article. After I’d scanned the article twice, I took notes on the basic gist in the leather journal.
* Thirty years ago, crows and ravens inexplicably dropped from the sky at the exact same time all over the world.
* Two-thirds recovered after a few minutes and flew away, but one-third of the Corvid birds in the Corvus genus died across the world that day.
* After studying their bodies, scientists speculated something stunned them and that their drop from the sky had caused their hearts to stop.
* No one could point to any worldwide phenomenon that could’ve caused the birds to react the way they did. No weather event, no atmospheric event, no environmental event…nothing correlated across the entire world at the exact same time.
I’d just jotted down the last note when the lights popped off, sending the windowless room into darkness. The only light came from the machine in front of me. Apparently, I’d been so focused on the article I’d barely moved. I stood on tiptoe and waved my arms above the tall bookshelves to activate the motion sensor in the lighting.
Nothing.
I sat back down with a sigh, then quickly put the microfiche back. Once I’d shut down the machine, the stairwell door click closed. I snorted, wondering why Drystan bothered to be quiet when he came back. On his way out, he’d let the heavy metal door slam like a garbage truck on trash day.
“Hey,” I called out. “Do me a favor and move around back there so the lights will come back on.”
I was surprised he didn’t respond. Maybe he’d tried and it didn’t work, so he was just waiting on me by the door where the exit sign’s red glow gave off extra light. Hugging the leather journal to my chest, I tugged my backpack up on my shoulder. My eyes had started to adjust to the darkness, and I realized I could make out my hands and stuff, so light was coming from somewhere. At least it was enough for me to make my way back to the stairwell.
As I walked out of the back section, I saw a thin dark-haired college-aged guy not much taller than me standing in the middle of the aisle. Dim track lighting from the ceiling reflected shadows across the smug look on his face.
My steps slowed to a halt and my stomach knotted as the feeling of being watched from my dream came back to me. “Um, hey.” I thumbed back toward the microfiche machine and gave a nervous laugh. “If you’re looking for the microfiche section, the machine’s all yours. Hopefully you won’t have as much trouble finding what you’re looking for as I did.”
The guy tilted his head and looked me up and down, then snorted. “You’re not much to look at. Such a tiny bird.”
I stiffened. “Not that I was asking for an opinion, but since you’re handing insults out like candy, I wouldn’t even notice you if I passed you on the street.”
He folded his arms against his birdcage chest. “Oh, really? You wouldn’t give me a second look?”
Arrogant much?
This had to be the oddest conversation I’d ever had with a stranger.
Where the heck had Drystan gone? To the moon? I squared my shoulders. We were practically the same size. If he tried to lay a hand on me, I could take him. “Nope. Now that we’ve shared our mutual disinterest, I’m out of here,” I said before I turned down a bookcase aisle that led to the stairwell.
I’d made it halfway down the aisle when the guy suddenly appeared at the other end. He leaned against the bookcase, dark eyebrows elevated. “
This
is going to be fun.”
His speed had surprised me, but it was the depth of his laugh that sent a chill rippling through me. As it resonated in the small space, the baritone seemed at odds with his size, like the laugh of a giant coming from an ant. I stopped, clutching the leather journal to my chest. “What do you want?” I’d tried for confident, but my voice shook a little.
He pushed off the bookcase, a lazy smile spreading across his face. “A good fight.”
Chapter Six
Had I been dropped into another person’s life, someone who’d really pissed this guy off? When he took a step forward, my insides quivered. I spun around, then bolted in the opposite direction. As soon as I rounded the bookcase and turned back into the main aisle, he was there, blocking my path.
I screamed, trying to backtrack, but he grabbed my shoulders and slammed me against the end of the bookcase. Sheer delight danced in his dark eyes.
His bony hands were heavier than they looked, biting like claws into my skin through my jacket’s jean material. “Come on. Give me your best shot, my little tweet. You’re not making this
any
fun.”
I tried to twist free from his grip, but his hold was surprisingly strong. His thin arms didn’t budge against my struggles. “You must think I’m someone else. I don’t want to fight you.”
His narrow face creased in confusion. “You’re just going to
let
me kill you? Without a fight?” he said, shaking me so hard I lost my grip on the leather book.
When the journal hit the floor, he glanced down and hissed as if his eyes burned. He shut his eyes for a second, then drilled his dark gaze into mine. Wild excitement had replaced his annoyed confusion. He yanked my backpack off my shoulder and held it out, demanding, “Put that book inside your backpack and zip it closed.”
Anger boiled inside me, puffing my chest in defiance. He wanted my journal?
No way was I giving up my only connection to Ethan.
I jerked my head back and forth and gritted, “Do it yourself!” I didn’t know why he wanted my journal, but he’d have to release me to retrieve it. When he bent to pick it up, I’d knee him in the head, then grab my journal and make a break for the door.
He sounded like a dragon about to expel fire as he shoved me to my knees, ruining my plans for escape. Yanking my jacket, he pressed my face close to the opened journal on the floor. “I said, ‘Pick it up, bitch!’”
“Screw you!” I screamed at the same time I purposefully fell to my side, kicking my legs toward his ankles. I hooked his feet then jerked forward. When his legs went out from underneath him and he went down, I started to crawl to get away, but he recovered quickly, yanking at my ankle with a vise grip.
As soon as I rolled over, he was already standing above me. He lifted me off the ground by my jacket’s collar, then gripped my throat and slammed me against the bookcase once more. My throat burned and terror clogged my chest as he effortlessly slid me up the wood surface until my feet dangled several inches off the ground.
When I clawed at his wrist to relieve some of the pressure on my throat, I expected to see fury in his eyes. Instead, grudging respect flickered in their dark depths.
“Not bad for a fledgling.” His lip twisted in a derisive smile as I struggled to breathe. Just before I lost consciousness, he adjusted his hold upward to my jawbone, giving relief to my airway. Tears filled my eyes from the pressure of my weight on my jaw, but at least I could breathe.
Determination filtered into his expression. “Do as I say and I’ll make sure your death is quick.”
I tried to shake my head, but he growled, “Yes, you will!” His voice had altered with his impatience. It sounded like ground-up glass grating across asphalt. Hundreds of tiny needles pounded against my eardrums. I winced and yanked at the hand holding me with the strength of a WWF wrestler, then rammed my boot into his groin, hard.
He barely flinched, but he let out a vicious growl and shifted his hold back to my throat. As my vision began to spot and then fade, I couldn’t believe I was going to die. Not like this. Tightening my grip on his wrist, I gathered all the strength I could and used the bookcase as leverage to quickly tuck my knees toward my chin on either side of his arm.
With a grunt of anger, I jammed my feet into his chest. My attacker flew backward and I fell too, landing hard on my back. Pain exploded along my spine, making me gasp for air as I rolled to my side and into a crouched position.
I stumbled to my feet and wheezed. My head buzzed, but I didn’t stop. I grabbed the journal, then pressed it close to my chest as I took off as fast as my legs would carry me. A horrific snarl raised the tiny hairs on my arms and the floor shook as the guy’s feet pounded in fast pursuit. When the elevator pinged right before the doors began to slide open, I veered toward them, screaming. “Help me!”
Please let someone be there. Someone big and intimidating.
Drystan looked shocked as I flew into him, my momentum drilling us both into the elevator’s back wall.
“Nara? What the ’ell? What’s wrong?” He wrapped his arms around me to keep us from falling to the grimy elevator floor.
I glanced over my shoulder and half-turned, pointing to my pursuer as he pivoted and headed for the exit. “He—he attacked me!”
Drystan quickly set me aside, and I barely had time to register the flash of anger in his green eyes before he took off after the guy.
“Wait!” I screamed, running after him, but Drystan was already through the exit door.
Yanking the door open, I screamed, “He’s stronger than he looks” as Drystan ran down the stairs toward the next level. I’d barely made it to the third floor landing when I saw Drystan grab hold of the metal railing just below me, then vault into the air. Curling up and over the stairwell turn, he shot like a bullet down to the second floor, skipping an entire flight of stairs with his pivoting move.
Astonished, I glanced through the stairwell to see him land in a smooth crouch, as if he’d landed exactly where and how he’d planned. With furious determination hardening his face, he took off from the second floor toward the first floor in a similar fashion. Partway into his swing around the turn in the stairwell, he spread his legs and caught himself against the opposite wall in a fast halt.
I blinked at the show of upper-body strength he’d displayed, hanging for a split second above the stairs, before he pushed off the wall with this other leg. In a backward curling motion worthy of a seasoned gymnast, he swung his body back around, grabbing on to the bend of the stairwell’s railing like parallel bars.