arms. “Let go!” he sputtered indignantly.
“Fine.” Lisha spun the usher around and shoved him forward into the two approaching men. The resulting confusion left Roulette enough time to unlatch the door, letting it fall open with a bang.
“Stop her!” One of the men lunged, grabbing at Roulette’s injured foot. She gasped in pain but managed to get an arm inside the attic and hang on, and kicked at his face with her other foot. He recoiled quickly as her claws grazed his cheek.
The other man started to jump for Roulette, but Lisha slammed her shoulder into him, knocking him back just long enough for the raccoon to scramble the rest of the way inside.
“Damn it,” the usher said, then covered his own mouth. “Hold her while I get a ladder.” He hurried off while the other two men forced Lisha back against the nearest wall.
“What the hell is she up to?” one of them said, staring at the open attic door.
“Trying to save you,” Lisha snarled, struggling against the hold.
The church’s attic wasn’t big enough for Roulette to stand in. She crawled around on hands and knees, frantically searching for—for what? There had to be something here, amidst the dust and boxes.
She heard the arguing below the entrance she’d come in, the voices of the congregation and priest below and in front of her—and then scraping and bouncing from behind. A ladder. Come on, Roulette. Her foot throbbed with pain; she couldn’t concentrate. Bottles, pipes, tubes, hoses. Where would—
Wait. The dust. Pay attention to the dust. The opposite corner looked—not clean, but disturbed, visible tracks where boxes had been shoved about.
Someone popped their head up where she’d entered. “I see her,” he called, and hauled himself up with several grunts. She scrambled toward the corner and started pushing boxes around.
The human started crawling toward her, looking less than pleased at the cobwebs he had to push aside. “C’mon, girl, don’t make me drag you out. I can barely see up here.”
“Not my fault you have crappy vision.” What was that over there? Metal?
He crawled toward her resolutely. “I know your friend the vixen’s with an anti-human group. You too?”
“If we were anti-human we wouldn’t be trying to save you.” She pushed another box out of the way, then sucked in her breath. What she’d seen wasn’t metal, it was glass. A line of a half-dozen big decorative bottles, each full of dark blue liquid, with their sprayer tops replaced by rubber stoppers and tubes.
The human had gotten close enough to try to clumsily grab at her. She squirmed forward, trying to trace where the tubes led to. “Don’t stop me, help me, you idiot,” she shrieked at him. “We don’t have time!”
“Time before you do what?” He lunged at her again, catching her leg this time, but didn’t pull backward. Instead, he stared at the bottles and hoses. “What are those?”
“It’s the acid. Herani.” She found where the tubes connected, into another box connected to a T-junction pipe. “This must be the timer.”
He let go of her and pulled himself forward. “You’re serious.”
She was running her hands over the box, looking for a switch, a valve, a dial, anything. “It’s set to go off at half past noon. What time is it?”
“I can’t see my watch.” He hurriedly pulled it out of his pocket and held it out.
Her ears folded back. “Lords, that’s now .”
“How do you stop it?”
“I don’t know. Get them out.”
He began scrambling backward, banging on the ceiling. “Get out! Get out!” he bellowed, nearly falling down the ladder. The noises from the congregation finally started to sound alarmed.
Roulette stared at the featureless box, then back at the bottles. You’re over-thinking it. She started carefully pulling out each stopper, trying not to think about what would happen if she spilled any or moved too quickly.
As she worked on the second-to-last stopper, she heard a
“Fine.” Lisha spun the usher around and shoved him forward into the two approaching men. The resulting confusion left Roulette enough time to unlatch the door, letting it fall open with a bang.
“Stop her!” One of the men lunged, grabbing at Roulette’s injured foot. She gasped in pain but managed to get an arm inside the attic and hang on, and kicked at his face with her other foot. He recoiled quickly as her claws grazed his cheek.
The other man started to jump for Roulette, but Lisha slammed her shoulder into him, knocking him back just long enough for the raccoon to scramble the rest of the way inside.
“Damn it,” the usher said, then covered his own mouth. “Hold her while I get a ladder.” He hurried off while the other two men forced Lisha back against the nearest wall.
“What the hell is she up to?” one of them said, staring at the open attic door.
“Trying to save you,” Lisha snarled, struggling against the hold.
The church’s attic wasn’t big enough for Roulette to stand in. She crawled around on hands and knees, frantically searching for—for what? There had to be something here, amidst the dust and boxes.
She heard the arguing below the entrance she’d come in, the voices of the congregation and priest below and in front of her—and then scraping and bouncing from behind. A ladder. Come on, Roulette. Her foot throbbed with pain; she couldn’t concentrate. Bottles, pipes, tubes, hoses. Where would—
Wait. The dust. Pay attention to the dust. The opposite corner looked—not clean, but disturbed, visible tracks where boxes had been shoved about.
Someone popped their head up where she’d entered. “I see her,” he called, and hauled himself up with several grunts. She scrambled toward the corner and started pushing boxes around.
The human started crawling toward her, looking less than pleased at the cobwebs he had to push aside. “C’mon, girl, don’t make me drag you out. I can barely see up here.”
“Not my fault you have crappy vision.” What was that over there? Metal?
He crawled toward her resolutely. “I know your friend the vixen’s with an anti-human group. You too?”
“If we were anti-human we wouldn’t be trying to save you.” She pushed another box out of the way, then sucked in her breath. What she’d seen wasn’t metal, it was glass. A line of a half-dozen big decorative bottles, each full of dark blue liquid, with their sprayer tops replaced by rubber stoppers and tubes.
The human had gotten close enough to try to clumsily grab at her. She squirmed forward, trying to trace where the tubes led to. “Don’t stop me, help me, you idiot,” she shrieked at him. “We don’t have time!”
“Time before you do what?” He lunged at her again, catching her leg this time, but didn’t pull backward. Instead, he stared at the bottles and hoses. “What are those?”
“It’s the acid. Herani.” She found where the tubes connected, into another box connected to a T-junction pipe. “This must be the timer.”
He let go of her and pulled himself forward. “You’re serious.”
She was running her hands over the box, looking for a switch, a valve, a dial, anything. “It’s set to go off at half past noon. What time is it?”
“I can’t see my watch.” He hurriedly pulled it out of his pocket and held it out.
Her ears folded back. “Lords, that’s now .”
“How do you stop it?”
“I don’t know. Get them out.”
He began scrambling backward, banging on the ceiling. “Get out! Get out!” he bellowed, nearly falling down the ladder. The noises from the congregation finally started to sound alarmed.
Roulette stared at the featureless box, then back at the bottles. You’re over-thinking it. She started carefully pulling out each stopper, trying not to think about what would happen if she spilled any or moved too quickly.
As she worked on the second-to-last stopper, she heard a
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