Page 26 of Power of Shadow

It won’t be easy.

Inhale. Exhale. I count to three and put all my strength into my legs. Letting go of my hands at the last moment, I push myself up and back, turning my body in the air at the same time.

I stretch my arms out in front of me as hard as I can, knowing that my short height isn’t helpful.

Two seconds later, my left hand grabs the bottom of the railing, and my right hand barely grazes it before grabbing the air.

Cursing, I clench my left hand. I rock back and forth as if on a swing; the skin on my hand stings. I clench my jaw and, before the danger registers in my mind, I’m already hanging with both hands on the balcony.

That was close.

After waiting a few seconds, I make my way hand over hand to the opposite edge of the balcony. Right next to me, a gutter runs down the wall, which I slide down.

As soon as both feet are on the ground, I crouch down and look around before moving on.

I run through the garden, jump over the fence, and cross the road.

I sneak around to the back of the house. Through a ground-floor window, I enter the basement and, as I suspected, find the electrical panel there. When I flip the master power switch, the house is plunged into darkness, and David’s curse echoes.

Without making a sound, I take a few steps up the stairs, slip through the door, and find myself in the living area.

Most of the house is dark, with only a few areas illuminated by the light filtering in from the streetlights.

The light switch clicks a few times, then David speaks. “What the hell?”

I turn right and stand just inside the living room. A man’s shadow moves across the room and stops in front of the window.

“The twenty-first century, and man is still struggling with fucking fuses. Unbelievable,” he says, looking out at the neighborhood.

Sighing, he turns toward me, apparently planning to head to the basement.

David is nothing like his brother. He’s not much taller than me, with a round belly and a round face covered with thick stubble on his cheeks and jaw. Charles Baker is tall, slim, always clean-shaven, and has thick, brown hair. Even time hasn’t affected his appearance. At least that’s how he looks in the pictures I have.

David adjusts his bathrobe and tightens the belt as he walks in my direction. Before he reaches the threshold, I step out of the darkness.

His eyes widen in surprise. He freezes immediately. As he scans my posture, assessing the potential threat, he relaxes.

Big mistake, buddy. This could mean your funeral.

“Who are you?” His eyes fixed on my mask.

“Hello, David,” I greet him, my mask slightly distorting my normal voice. Still, he can’t doubt that I’m a woman, even if it’s not clear from my look.

We stand a few steps apart. “What the fuck do you want?” he growls.

“I want to talk. We can do this the easy way and part ways in peace. Or we can do it the hard way… though I don’t recommend that.”

“Fuck off and get the hell out of my house!”

His first mistake is taking another step forward. Within seconds, I pull out my favorite dagger, which I always keep behind my belt. It whizzes through the air, and before he realizes what’s happening, the blade sticks into the hardwood floor a few steps behind him.

He turns around, looks at the dagger, and only then realizes the throw has wounded him. His eyes drift to his arm, where blood is already seeping through the sleeve.

“What the fuck?”

Sometimes I hate that as a woman I’m often underestimated by men. On the other hand, it gives me an advantage because I’m a danger they don’t expect. The threat I pose is inversely proportional to their disregard.

“This is the only warning you’ll get. I want to know where your brother is.” I get to the point while pulling out a second knife.