Cassidy Jones and the Seventh Attendant (Cassidy Jones Adventures, Book Three) by Elise Stokes Page B
Authors: Elise Stokes
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properly.
“There are a lot of people on the streets now, so take care not to be seen. I’m only two blocks away from Riley’s office. I’ll let you in through the emergency exit in back. Everything will be fine, Cassidy. This is almost over. Repeat back to me everything I just told you.”
I tried but couldn’t. The bullets felt heavy in my stomach. A horrifying thought struck me: What if my skin suddenly softens and the bullets get swallowed up in my flesh?
“Hurry, Emery.” I disconnected the call and shot toward the street. We need to get these bullets out of me!
At the street, I looked around, recognizing where I was—or believing I did. Spying an alley, I ran across the street toward it, leaping over a parked car. I saw two men and a woman in the alley ahead. One man held a switchblade to the other man’s throat while the woman riffled through his pockets. I moved so fast, none of them saw me until the mugger with the switchblade was yanked off his feet by the back of his jacket collar.
“Help!” he screamed as I dragged him behind me, arms flailing, boot heels bumping along the asphalt.
I emerged from the alley into a street bustling with activity and flung the mugger toward an oncoming police car. Lights flashing, siren blaring, the police car screeched to a halt and the mugger hit the hood, tumbling over it with the switchblade still gripped in his hand.
I jammed the cell phone between my teeth and took a flying leap at the nearest building, catching a windowsill on the second floor. I scaled the protruding bricks as swiftly as a spider scurrying up a wall and heaved myself over the ledge and onto the roof. Pausing to catch my breath, I spat the phone into my hand and looked down. A small crowd had gathered below to gape at me.
The dazed mugger, sprawled atop the police car, dropped his switchblade, which clattered across the hood and onto the asphalt. The officer in the passenger’s seat stared up at me with a radio microphone to his mouth, but his lips weren’t moving, as if he were at a loss about how to call in what he had just witnessed.
Turning away from the street, I grabbed my head and demanded it to think . I had to get hold of myself. I forced air into my lungs and released my breath slowly while I looked around. It occurred to me that I was only a few buildings away from O’Shea Bail Bonds.
I hit speed dial on my phone.
“Where are you?” Emery answered, sounding breathless. The silence and echo in the background suggested he was now indoors.
“Good—you’re in Riley’s building,” I deduced, oddly proud that I had control over myself again. My voice even sounded calm. “Change of plans. Go to her office and open the window. I’ll be coming in from the roof.”
Emery didn’t ask questions or disconnect the call. I listened to him as he hoofed it up the stairs while I sped across rooftops, leapt over an alley, and landed on the roof of O’Shea Bail Bonds. Amazingly, being shot hadn’t affected my strength and speed. The adrenaline coursing through my veins likely didn’t hurt, either.
A window opened, and I hung my head over the edge of the roof. Emery’s head poked out. He craned his neck to peer up, and boy, did he ever look stressed.
“I’m coming down the drainpipe,” I said, tapping the drainpipe conveniently located alongside the window.
Emery gripped it and shook. “It’s safe. Come down,” he called up.
I lowered myself over the edge of the roof and shimmied down the drainpipe four floors. Emery grabbed my waist and hauled me in.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, embracing me quickly before pushing me out at arm’s length so he could survey the damage. He had a difficult time mastering his expression.
Finally he cleared his throat. “I have an idea how to remove these,” he said, sounding calmer than he looked. “Lie down on the sofa.”
As I did this, he headed to the storage closet. “Take the costume off. Do you need help?”
“No, I
“There are a lot of people on the streets now, so take care not to be seen. I’m only two blocks away from Riley’s office. I’ll let you in through the emergency exit in back. Everything will be fine, Cassidy. This is almost over. Repeat back to me everything I just told you.”
I tried but couldn’t. The bullets felt heavy in my stomach. A horrifying thought struck me: What if my skin suddenly softens and the bullets get swallowed up in my flesh?
“Hurry, Emery.” I disconnected the call and shot toward the street. We need to get these bullets out of me!
At the street, I looked around, recognizing where I was—or believing I did. Spying an alley, I ran across the street toward it, leaping over a parked car. I saw two men and a woman in the alley ahead. One man held a switchblade to the other man’s throat while the woman riffled through his pockets. I moved so fast, none of them saw me until the mugger with the switchblade was yanked off his feet by the back of his jacket collar.
“Help!” he screamed as I dragged him behind me, arms flailing, boot heels bumping along the asphalt.
I emerged from the alley into a street bustling with activity and flung the mugger toward an oncoming police car. Lights flashing, siren blaring, the police car screeched to a halt and the mugger hit the hood, tumbling over it with the switchblade still gripped in his hand.
I jammed the cell phone between my teeth and took a flying leap at the nearest building, catching a windowsill on the second floor. I scaled the protruding bricks as swiftly as a spider scurrying up a wall and heaved myself over the ledge and onto the roof. Pausing to catch my breath, I spat the phone into my hand and looked down. A small crowd had gathered below to gape at me.
The dazed mugger, sprawled atop the police car, dropped his switchblade, which clattered across the hood and onto the asphalt. The officer in the passenger’s seat stared up at me with a radio microphone to his mouth, but his lips weren’t moving, as if he were at a loss about how to call in what he had just witnessed.
Turning away from the street, I grabbed my head and demanded it to think . I had to get hold of myself. I forced air into my lungs and released my breath slowly while I looked around. It occurred to me that I was only a few buildings away from O’Shea Bail Bonds.
I hit speed dial on my phone.
“Where are you?” Emery answered, sounding breathless. The silence and echo in the background suggested he was now indoors.
“Good—you’re in Riley’s building,” I deduced, oddly proud that I had control over myself again. My voice even sounded calm. “Change of plans. Go to her office and open the window. I’ll be coming in from the roof.”
Emery didn’t ask questions or disconnect the call. I listened to him as he hoofed it up the stairs while I sped across rooftops, leapt over an alley, and landed on the roof of O’Shea Bail Bonds. Amazingly, being shot hadn’t affected my strength and speed. The adrenaline coursing through my veins likely didn’t hurt, either.
A window opened, and I hung my head over the edge of the roof. Emery’s head poked out. He craned his neck to peer up, and boy, did he ever look stressed.
“I’m coming down the drainpipe,” I said, tapping the drainpipe conveniently located alongside the window.
Emery gripped it and shook. “It’s safe. Come down,” he called up.
I lowered myself over the edge of the roof and shimmied down the drainpipe four floors. Emery grabbed my waist and hauled me in.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, embracing me quickly before pushing me out at arm’s length so he could survey the damage. He had a difficult time mastering his expression.
Finally he cleared his throat. “I have an idea how to remove these,” he said, sounding calmer than he looked. “Lie down on the sofa.”
As I did this, he headed to the storage closet. “Take the costume off. Do you need help?”
“No, I
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