Shakily getting his feet under him, he crouched, one hand firmly on the wall. His hands slipped, nails digging for some kind of hold. Biting back a whimper, Blake stood and, before he could second-guess himself, jumped with everything he had.
His stomach dropped as he entered the open air. Blake had a moment ofwhat-the-fuckbefore he was hitting metal, knees buckling, and sending him face-first into the fire escape.
Pain is good,Gabriel said once.
Blake was going to hit him if he ever said it again.
His shoulder throbbed in the same beat as his tongue. The tang of pennies was nauseating, he spat, letting saliva and blood dribble out of his swollen lips between the metal slats and to the street below.
Phin grabbed him by the back of his jacket and yanked him up. Blake’s knees buckled, but he caught himself on the handrail. Phin didn’t stick around to see if Blake was all right; he began ascending the stairs, body twisted so he could keep his gun trained ahead.
Blake followed, eyes lingering on the slight limp Phin was trying to hide. His hand lingered over the gun tucked into the holster on his hip. Its weight wasn’t exactly reassuring. Blake hadn’t had much chance to practice with it. Irving didn’t want to risk the noise attracting anything untoward—alien or human—and Phin was zealous about their ammo. He didn’t want to waste it on plinking cans.
He unclipped the strap so the gun would be quicker to draw, but left it at that. He wanted his hands free for the syringe.
Phin’s broad back took up most of the stairs, and he moved up quickly. Each time they passed a window, Blake looked in—sometimes he saw hallways and other times offices. Most were nondescript. A desk, chair, and some shelves, maybe. The offices were small. He could imagine the occupants looking out thatsame window, wishing they were outside enjoying the day rather than stuck inside.
Blake hoped that wasn’t them in the alley below.
The final landing opened up to a ladder to the roof at the end. Or at least, it was supposed to. The Monkey Cats had ripped it from the wall. It hung half off the roof, twisting over the streets.
Phin’s face was grim. “We’ll have to go inside.”
Blake didn’t think that was a good idea, but Phin wasn’t asking, so he followed him in through the broken window. Inside the building was dark, the air stagnant and still. There was a sickly sweet smell of rot that Blake recognized. It made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He tried to breathe through his mouth.
The narrow window spat them out into a break room. A small square Formica table had a molding birthday cake in the center with a box of candles lying next to it. Blake purposefully didn’t look at the writing on the cake.
Dust motes swirled in the weak streams of light from the window as Phin passed. The hallway was dimmer than the break room, and Blake had to squint to make out the signage on closed doors as they moved closer to the center of the building. Blake was trying to be quiet, but the sound of his breathing and the soft thumps of their boots on thin carpet designed for dress shoes sounded like thunder in his ears. Even Phin, readjusting his gun, the minute squeaks of plastic on metal, had Blake jumping.
On the left, a door withRoof Accesswrittenon a placard appeared. Phin tried the knob, but it was locked. He didn’t hesitate to use the butt of his gun to slam against the brass knob. It took three tries before it snapped off, and he was able to slide the internal locking mechanism aside and open the door.
The door led to a narrow, pitch-black stairway that ended in a metal storm door. Phin waited for his vision to adjust beforestarting forward. Blake followed, grabbing the back of his plate carrier for guidance.
His heart was beating so loud he could almost hear it over the ringing in his ears. Phin’s steps were sure and confident. He didn’t seem to notice the blackness pressing in on them or feel the need to look behind them, expecting something to appear at the bottom of the stairs like a cheap jump scare in a bad horror movie.
Phin seemed surprised when it turned, easily unlocked. Blake reached for the gun in his holster, pulling it free.
Do not shoot me.
That seemed ridiculous twenty minutes ago. Now Blake’s hands were shaking and clammy around the textured grip. He tightened his fingers and thumbed the safety off like Gabriel showed him the first time they’d ever held hands.
Sunlight poured in as the door swung open on tight hinges. Blake squinted against the sun, holding the gun out in front of him as Phin pushed the door fully open.
Blake’s vision cleared, and he saw an open rooftop, smaller than the first. Junk walls towered over them, leaning inward insidiously, like they were watching them with bated breath, sharp edges ready to snag them.
And in the shadow of one of the walls was Queen Dolly.
She was sitting on her haunches, head low. Standing at least three feet taller than a regular Monkey Cat. Both ears were tipped with long guard hairs, a large, pointed crest fanning out just behind her skull. Her long tail lay coiled on the ground behind her. As they watched, she began to listlessly knead at the ground with her massive claws, shifting her bloated belly to the side. Like a pregnant woman trying to get comfortable.
Sunlight caught on her eye pieces—the bulbous goggles the Monkey Cats needed to protect their only consistent weak spot.They were almost iridescent, colors shimmering across the globed surfaces.
There was something different about the Queen. It was like looking at an original painting after only seeing it in pictures. She had a permanent quality. A bespoke creation rather than a cheap imitation.
Blake thought she was almost majestic in the same way a shark was. An apex predator existing on the same field, but playing the game at a whole other level.
She was alone. Used. Created to be nothing more than a breeding beast. All of her power was contained, shackled behind her uncomfortably bloated belly. Blake lowered his gun.
Attached to her back, just behind her sloping shoulder blades, were two thick…ropes? No. More like filaments. Seemingly hollow, almost invisible against the sky. They were so well cloaked he lost them more than he saw them. They tugged on her skin as they caught in the wind, reaching so high into the sky he couldn’t find the end.
