monitor to the next. She tried to dismiss the flashes as headlights or a flickering streetlamp, but it felt wrong. Before the SUV pulled up, there’d been no activity at all. A man appeared on one of the monitors. Another burst of light and he was gone. Her eyes flicked to the next camera—there he was. Flash. Next camera. Flash. He appeared next to the SUV.
After a final flash, he materialized in the driver’s seat of the SUV. The vehicle tore out of the parking lot, leaving the SUV’s driver stupefied at the night deposit.
Kristen’s heart raced. What do I do?
Call the police? Call Jane? A carjacking was a job for the police. But that man was capital-G Gifted. That was a job for Jane, right?
Right?
The entire scene had played out in seconds. Kristen shook her head, snapping herself out of her awe.
Stop thinking. Just go!
Kristen leapt from her chair, leaving it spinning behind her. She tore off her security uniform, revealing her black workout clothes underneath, and pulled the wig from her head. She sprinted down the short hallway from the security office to the bank’s back door. She punched a code into a digital pad beside it to disable the alarm. The cameras would pan away from the door for five seconds after disarming the alarm. It sounded counterintuitive; one would think the best time for the cameras to be on the door would be after disabling the alarm.
But Jane had given her the job. A modern bank branch didn’t need night security. And when Kristen had to leave, she had to do it unseen.
Kristen burst through the door, yanked it shut behind her, and ran like the wind from view of the cameras. She stopped at the roadside, turning in place to take stock of her position.
Temple Financial stood at the corner of one of the busiest intersections of Milwaukee’s south side, but that was during the day. In the middle of the night, the traffic lights all blinked red as if to say you’re on your own, figure it out yourself. Which way had the truck gone? She envisioned the camera and the night deposit, oriented herself, and settled on south. Kristen set her feet, preparing to run.
Don’t be an idiot, Kris. He’s in a car. He’s long gone.
A cloud of owls soared past on silent wings, low and fast. They flew south.
Uh, sure. Owls. Okay. Just follow the owls.
Kristen launched forward at a run, tearing down the crosswalk. The owls pulled ahead, the cloud shrinking into the distance. She pushed herself harder, arms and legs pumping, the wind whipping her short hair. Veering from the sidewalk, she took to the road. Streetlamps flickered past. The owls gained no more distance, and soon, she started to overtake them. Her feet were thunder on the concrete. The wind howled in her ears and the fabric of her shirt flapped violently at the waist.
She ran among the owls and was certain she could feel tangible hatred rolling off them. Whether it was real or imagined, she didn’t care. She just ran. Rare was the opportunity to just run, and she wondered just how fast she was. How fast did an owl fly? She cursed the lack of cars on the road—they’d be able to give her an accurate estimate. Kristen had no idea what her limits might be. Track had given her an inkling, but she’d never pushed. After all, high school girls didn’t run the 100-meter dash in under six seconds. No one did that. After that, she’d never given 100 percent. She only felt free when alone, and even then, there wasn’t a treadmill in existence that gave her the freedom to just run. She wanted to pull away from the parliament of owls, to see just how far ahead she could get, but that wouldn’t help. She had to follow them, be behind them if not among them.
Her heart drummed its quickening beat against her ribs and the wind chilled the growing moisture on her brow. Kristen drew deep, hard breaths, but still she wanted to run.
The roadside signs of restaurants and hotels flew past too quickly to read. In an instant, the owls changed
After a final flash, he materialized in the driver’s seat of the SUV. The vehicle tore out of the parking lot, leaving the SUV’s driver stupefied at the night deposit.
Kristen’s heart raced. What do I do?
Call the police? Call Jane? A carjacking was a job for the police. But that man was capital-G Gifted. That was a job for Jane, right?
Right?
The entire scene had played out in seconds. Kristen shook her head, snapping herself out of her awe.
Stop thinking. Just go!
Kristen leapt from her chair, leaving it spinning behind her. She tore off her security uniform, revealing her black workout clothes underneath, and pulled the wig from her head. She sprinted down the short hallway from the security office to the bank’s back door. She punched a code into a digital pad beside it to disable the alarm. The cameras would pan away from the door for five seconds after disarming the alarm. It sounded counterintuitive; one would think the best time for the cameras to be on the door would be after disabling the alarm.
But Jane had given her the job. A modern bank branch didn’t need night security. And when Kristen had to leave, she had to do it unseen.
Kristen burst through the door, yanked it shut behind her, and ran like the wind from view of the cameras. She stopped at the roadside, turning in place to take stock of her position.
Temple Financial stood at the corner of one of the busiest intersections of Milwaukee’s south side, but that was during the day. In the middle of the night, the traffic lights all blinked red as if to say you’re on your own, figure it out yourself. Which way had the truck gone? She envisioned the camera and the night deposit, oriented herself, and settled on south. Kristen set her feet, preparing to run.
Don’t be an idiot, Kris. He’s in a car. He’s long gone.
A cloud of owls soared past on silent wings, low and fast. They flew south.
Uh, sure. Owls. Okay. Just follow the owls.
Kristen launched forward at a run, tearing down the crosswalk. The owls pulled ahead, the cloud shrinking into the distance. She pushed herself harder, arms and legs pumping, the wind whipping her short hair. Veering from the sidewalk, she took to the road. Streetlamps flickered past. The owls gained no more distance, and soon, she started to overtake them. Her feet were thunder on the concrete. The wind howled in her ears and the fabric of her shirt flapped violently at the waist.
She ran among the owls and was certain she could feel tangible hatred rolling off them. Whether it was real or imagined, she didn’t care. She just ran. Rare was the opportunity to just run, and she wondered just how fast she was. How fast did an owl fly? She cursed the lack of cars on the road—they’d be able to give her an accurate estimate. Kristen had no idea what her limits might be. Track had given her an inkling, but she’d never pushed. After all, high school girls didn’t run the 100-meter dash in under six seconds. No one did that. After that, she’d never given 100 percent. She only felt free when alone, and even then, there wasn’t a treadmill in existence that gave her the freedom to just run. She wanted to pull away from the parliament of owls, to see just how far ahead she could get, but that wouldn’t help. She had to follow them, be behind them if not among them.
Her heart drummed its quickening beat against her ribs and the wind chilled the growing moisture on her brow. Kristen drew deep, hard breaths, but still she wanted to run.
The roadside signs of restaurants and hotels flew past too quickly to read. In an instant, the owls changed
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