As I muttered to myself, I looked around for something to use on the lock. Flicking the light switch, I cursed when nothing happened. The electricity was either out or disconnected. Probably the latter. Who would need electricity on an old farm that was no longer used? In truth, having it would be worse than a neon sign stating: HERE 1 AM; COME AND GET ME!
I glanced at the single small window high up in the western wall. The sun sparkled on the dirty pane—red, pink, orange—the sky behind it was a dark but brilliant blue. What light I had wasn’t going to last much longer.
I checked the doorknob, which was shiny and new, damn near unpickable, even if I’d had the tools to pick it. I should have known Sanducci would buy the best. Frustrated, I rattled the door.
And something on the other side rattled back.
Chapter 10
“Sanducci?”
That something growled. The growl didn’t sound human. It sounded more—
Rrrarrrr!
“Cat,” 1 murmured. “Damn big one.”
The thing slammed against the wood, snarling now, scratching, trying to make its way to me.
I felt exposed, my hands far too empty. Where in hell was that knife?
My gaze searched the floor. The light had faded to a pale gray, shot through with streams of pink. Pretty if I’d had the time to daydream. The way my life was going, daydreams would become a fond memory. Nightmares were going to be more my style.
At first I didn’t see the knife anywhere, and I had a panicked moment thinking Jimmy had taken it along. Then I caught the last flash of the dying sun off something just under the edge of the cot.
I went onto my knees and grabbed the hilt, feeling so much better with its now familiar weight in my hand, despite the remnants of Jimmy’s blood on the blade. Turning, I faced the door just as the big beasty crashed into it again. The wood split down the middle like a melon.
“Wonderful.”
I glanced at the knife. Silver worked on most shape-shifters. I knew that firsthand. I was pretty certain what was out there was some variation of the berserker I’d already killed, but it could be just a big cat.
I snorted. Just?
The thing snarled again, and I tilted my head. Sounded like a cougar, although it would be kind of odd for a cougar not only to wander so far south but to stroll into this barn and get a hard-on for me. Shape-shifter made a lot more sense, and that it did brought home to me how much my life had changed.
The door creaked alarmingly as the thing threw its body against the wood. I couldn’t stay here. If the animal got in, it would kill me, despite the silver weapon. The room was too small. The beast would break through and rush me. I’d have nowhere to retreat, no way to maneuver.
I’d lucked out with the bear. I doubted I’d continue to have that kind of good fortune with everything else. My sole chance was to escape somehow, then either run and hide, or if I had to, stand and face it. My gaze scanned the small room.
Anywhere but here.
I had a cell phone, but fat lot of good it would do me. Who would I call that I could explain this to? Who could I call that was capable of killing whatever was out there and not getting killed themselves?
No one but Jimmy, and I didn’t have his number.
My eyes lifted to the only other exit, that small western window about twelve feet above the ground. This wasn’t going to be easy.
I stowed the knife in my fanny pack, kicked off my shoes, then tossed the mattress off the cot and leaned the metal frame against the wall. If I stood on the top, I should be able to jump and catch hold of a beam, then swing myself onto it, hop over to the ledge and shimmy out the window. Piece of cake.
But what lay outside? A sheer drop or a convenient drainpipe?
“Only one way to find out,” I murmured, and scrambled up the iron frame until I was perched at the precipice.
The sound of my voice seemed to enrage the cat, which shrieked so loudly I wanted to cover my ears. However, I needed my hands for more important things.
I took a deep breath, bent at the knees, said a little prayer—if I missed there was a good chance I’d tumble off the metal contraption and sprain or strain something important—then leaped.
I caught the beam on the first try. I didn’t hesitate, but arched and then swung my legs as if the thick plank were a parallel bar and I was in the middle of the state competition.
My hips rolled over the wood; a splinter sliced through my jeans. I barely felt it. As 1 gained my feet, another resounding crash sounded below and a huge, golden paw swept through the ever-widening hole in the door.
I needed to get a move on before the cat broke all the way in and followed me. Then things would get ugly.
After gauging the distance between the beam and the ledge, I backed up as far as 1 could, accelerated for all of five steps, and performed a stag-split leap over the gap. The jeans made the movement kind of awkward, but I wasn’t being scored, unless I wanted to award myself a ten for making it and a zero for falling and dying by shape-shifter.