C. E. Murphy - Heart of Stone, Book 1

THE LIGHT CLICKED off, sudden darkness across the street briefly incomprehensible. Alban blinked without understanding, then pushed back, hands on his knees as he straightened his spine. Bells from a nearby church had rung the first small hour of the morning long enough ago that hed begun to think dawn would make an entrance before Margrit Knight took her leave from work, even if winter-time bought him more hours than a summer night would. Sunrise might come late, but he still preferred to be safely ensconced in his home well before it broke. Perching on building ledges during daylight hours made discovery far more likely.

The patient security guard, whose rounds had kept him within Albans line of sight all night, pressed a code into the numerical safety box on the buildings side, and a moment later held the door for a tired-looking Margrit. She gave him a weary smile, pulling her coat around herself more tightly against wind coming up from the water. It carried her words and a quiet laugh as she shook her head: Ive already called one, but I wouldnt mind company until it gets here. Thanks, Mark. Did Cara get out safely?

Paid for her cab, Mark replied. She didnt want me to, but its bad, walking around with a baby that late.

Margrit flashed a smile and turned her gaze up to the skyline. Hope and fear swept Alban, an unexpected combination of emotion that left a chill behind. For a moment her eyes lighted on him, then went on without recognition or notice. Of course, he thought, though disappointment replaced hope.

Did you get a receipt? Margrit asked. Let me pay you back, anyway. I think Russell will assign somebody to the case, so I can get reimbursed. She dug into her purse as Mark shook his head.

Dont need to, Miss Knight. Didnt do it just to get my money back. She needed a ride, thats all.

Margrits smile deepened. Youre a good man, Mark. Thanks. I didnt even think of it. She tugged something out of her purse anyway, palm-size and oddly textured, silver over metallic red, then slid it in her pocket. Alban tipped his head, watching her actions, which were easy enough to be ritual, then brought his attention back to the conversation.

Been a long day, the security guard said. You cant remember everything.

Dont tell me that. Margrit walked down the steps, peering up the street for her taxi. Next thing I know youll be telling me I cant save the world.

Wouldnt bet against you, Miss Knight.

Margrit grinned over her shoulder at the guard, then looked back up at the sky. Thats what I like to hear. Thanks. Her smile faded to a frown. Mark, was that there before? She lifted a hand, pointing a gloved finger directly at Alban.

So much for humans never looking up. Stillness was a way of beingnot flinching, not moving, requiring no more thought than breathing did. Albans heart thudded with the panic of discovery regardless, even as a part of him wanted to laugh at his own fears. His intention was to bring himself to Margrits notice. Being found out shouldnt be alarming, especially when she couldnt possibly recognize him.

The guard came down the stairs to follow her extended arm. Musta been, Miss Knight. Dont remember seeing it, though.

Margrit dropped her hand slowly and nodded. I swear Ive looked out my window a million times at that building and never saw it before.

Funny what we notice, Mark agreed. Heres your cab, Miss Knight. He stepped past her as the vehicle pulled up, and opened the door for her. Margrit gave him a grateful smile and ducked into the car.

A grin, full of unusual wickedness, broke through Albans stony expression. He leaped upward, leaving his perch behind, and paused long enough on the rooftop to catch Marks bewildered expression when he looked up to find the statue on the ledge gone.

A matter of steps between the taxi and her apartment buildings front door was all the time he had. Thered be no room for prevarication, no chance to back out. He waited on a balcony a few stories up, not wanting the cab driver to catch sight of him and perhaps identify him. Trusting Margrit wouldnt turn him in was enough of a gamble, though at least it would be difficult for her to catch him, if she was so inclined. The cab pulled away as she scurried up the steps to unlock the front door.

Alban dropped from the balcony, landing in a crouch on the sidewalk a few yards behind her, and pushed to his feet before murmuring, Margrit.

She twisted the lock open and stepped inside without looking back. Silver wire glinted at her ear, suddenly resolving: headphones attached to the palm-size metallic-red MP3 player that swung from her wrist. Mar!

The door clicked shut. Alban stepped back with a gasp of disbelieving laughter. No light came on in the front of her apartment. Hed have no chance of catching her in the kitchen without breaking in. He stood staring up at the building, then spread his hands helplessly. Margrit?

There was no answer, nor had he expected one. Time held him in its slow grip, watching her window until even he began to feel cold settling onto his skin. Then he shook himself and took to rooftops and sky, returning home in befuddlement.

You wanted to see me? Margrit leaned into her bosss office, trying to look wide-awake and perky. She was getting old. A few days of an upset sleep schedule wasnt as easy to get by on as itd been in college.

Russell glanced up and gestured her in. Yes, come in, Margrit, please. Have a seat. Ive been looking over the notes you took on last nights petitioner. He tapped the pile of paperwork she had left, information about Cara and data regarding building codes and wrecking protocols. Looking at it, Margrit felt a surge of satisfaction; squatters rights werent in her field of expertise, but she thought shed put together a good preliminary package. How late were you here?

She dropped into one of the visitors chairs. I dont know. One or two. I sent Cara home earlier than that, but I wanted to get some information together for you to look at. It was almost eight when we got here, she added to herself. Tony should have answered his phone at that hour. It wasnt too late to call. Work may have caught him, but she wished hed returned the call. Even a late night would have been nice to share after a triumphant day.

Margrit pulled her mind back to the topic at hand, shrugging. I asked her everything I could think of and told her Id try to get you to assign someone to help her. Its

You.

Margrit straightened in the chair, enough adrenaline washing through her to wake her up fully. I appreciate the offer, sir, but Im really not any sort of an expert on housing situations. I was thinking Nichole

If you need her help, Ill ask her to do what she can. I spent a while on the phone this morning. He glanced at the clock, which read a little after ten.

Margrit shifted her shoulders guiltily. I wouldve been in earlier, sir, but she cleared her throat and offered a lame smile along with the unvarnished truth but I was still sleeping.

Russell smiled. Its all right. None of us were here bright and early. Maybe a little too much celebrating. He shook his head. I didnt mean to reprimand you. Youve done a fine job here the last few years. Youre exactly the sort of person we need in Legal Aid. Young, dedicated, enthusiastic.

Pretty, Margrit thought. There were other words, too, that Russell avoided, as her boss and as a male. Descriptors that would be inappropriate to point out as being among her strengths as a lawyer. She nodded slightly, acknowledging his compliments without speaking.

You make a good public face. Russell leaned forward. Which is part of why I want you on this case. As I was saying, I made some phone calls this morning. This building, he said, nodding toward the stack of papers Margrit had left, is owned by Eliseo Daisani.