He stepped out from behind his hiding place and walked to the edge of the street where he could be clearly seen. “Tiger!” he called out. “Come down and talk to me! I have the medicine for Persia!”
He was taking a big chance. Street kids were very protective of their hiding places, aware that secrecy was their best defense against the many things that could hurt them, not the least of which were other street kids. The tribes had protection in numbers, but the dangers were the same. None of the tribes ever revealed to the others exactly where they were living. Some of the other denizens of their neighborhoods—Lizards, Spiders, and such—knew of their presence, but left them alone, for the most part. It was only the Croaks that were predatory enough to come hunting you while you slept.
Hawk waited for a response, but none came. He tried again. “Tiger, I have the pleneten! You didn’t show for our meeting, so I brought it! Come down and get it!”
Still nothing. He waited several minutes, searching for any sort of sign at all. Time was slipping away. The afternoon shadows were lengthening and the light was fading. He did not want to be up here so far away from home when it got dark.
He considered his options, then called the rest of the Ghosts out of hiding and brought them all into the center of the street. Splitting them into two groups, with Panther taking one and himself the other, they began working their way around the block, searching for an entrance. Fifteen minutes later, they were back, having failed to find one.
“Maybe through one of the other buildings?” Fixit suggested hopefully.
The buildings on either side were not as heavily boarded up as was the brick structure, and they gained entry easily into the one on the left. It yielded nothing; an alleyway separated the two buildings aboveground, and a blank wall closed off any possible access through the basement.
They moved to the one on the right. This one looked more promising: it shared a wall with the building they were trying to get into. It might have been a hotel at one time, its entrance more imposing than those of the buildings surrounding, its ground floor a broad stretch of mostly broken-out windows.
There was an eerie feel to the building, the fading light glinting off jagged pieces of broken glass and the darkness gathered inside so thick they could not see past it. They walked up to the entry, glancing at one another for reassurance, and stopped at the revolving doors when they refused to give. Panther moved to one of the side doors, reached through the broken window to release the catch, and slipped inside. The others followed.
They stood in the lobby, an imposing hall with a high ceiling and old furniture set about its broad open space in carefully arranged clusters.
The stuffing was coming out of most of it, the leather and fabric cracked and split.
They could hear the scurrying sound of rodents, and tiny dark forms shot into view in sudden bursts and were gone.
“Playmates for the *cats,” whispered Panther with a grin, but nobody smiled back.
The silence was deep and pervasive and troubling. Hawk glanced around uneasily, searching for the entrance that would admit them to the adjoining building, but found nothing. They spread out across the room, peering down corridors and up stairways. Because the buildings were connected, the entrance, if it existed, could be anywhere.
Fixit tugged on Hawk’s sleeve. “Cats are climbers,” he said softly, glancing over at the broad stairway leading up.
Hawk had counted the floors from outside, and there were at least seventeen or eighteen—several more than in the adjoining building. He didn’t like the thought of climbing that high with no idea of what he was getting into.
He didn’t like leaving the relative safety of the open streets. He considered his options, and then gathered the others about him.
“Panther and I are going up. The rest of you wait here. Watch our backs.
Don’t let us get trapped up there. We’ll be quick.”
He was just turning away when Candle suddenly doubled over, clutching at her head and sagging to her knees. She moaned softly, her eyes squeezing shut, her breathing turning quick and harsh. Hawk knew at once what was happening and knelt in front of her, gripping her slender shoulders.
“What do you see?” he whispered. He could feel the others pressing close about them.
“Blood everywhere,” she whispered.
“That’s enough for me,” Panther said at once. “I don’t like how this place feels either. Let’s get out of here.” He made as if to leave, but Hawk and the others stayed where they were. Panther wheeled back. “Are you paying attention, man? Are you listening to her? Are you listening to your own self?”
Hawk ignored him. He stroked Candle’s blond head and cradled her against him. “It’s all right, sweetie, it’s all right. Tell me. Where is the blood?
Whose is it?”
The little girl shook her head, then opened her eyes and looked at Hawk.