Danyana’s black shoes made no sound as she took the stairs, two at a time. She knew she must get to the Window, and get there soon. Iasmin had met an awful fate, and she had seen that Aerek would, too, lest he seek her and the Window. She had been gifted with two visions, not quite foresight, but powerful; perhaps Aerek would be lucky in a similar sense as well, to avoid the assassins.
By the fourth floor, she grew accustomed to the soft shuffle of her legs passing each other with each stride. By the fifth, she noticed another sound. Quick footsteps echoed below her. Someone was following. Someone who filled her with a dread that only one man could invoke. That man was supposed to be dead. She had killed him, had she not? But she had been too weak. Her heart could not permit her to steal a creature’s right to live. It was easy to fumble. It was the same as when she used to hesitate when swatting at a fly. She had not wished for death, and so could not murder. She loved life too much.
Quickly, against her judgment, she glanced over the railing. The dark, turtlenecked menace was only two floors below her. She continued, but could not hope for anything, not even an alert that he was close by the sound of his feet, for her own breathing deafened her, and her heartbeat pounded continuously harder in her chest and echoed in her skull.
Pound. “He cannot.” Pound “He cannot get me.” Pound. “Aerek!” Pound. “He cannot get Aerek.” Pound. “Help me!.” Pound. “I cannot get away.” Pound. “You must.” Pound. “I must die.” Pound. “No.” Pound. “He must be close.” Pound. “Run!” Pound. “I must survive.” Pound. “Go!” Pound. “The survivor gets to tell the story!” Pound. “No!”
Her vision failed her. “Aerek! He was just there! You passed him. I passed him; I left him!” she cried in her mind. She saw him kneeling, face contorted in pain. He bit his lip until it bled, and the tears and blood mixed. Sariel bowed over him, a dark twisted spider, silver dagger ready to sting.
She felt that sting – the sting of tears in her eyes, and she felt the coldness creeping into her at the same time a hot tear burned a path to her chin. She heard the last echo of her fall, for she had tripped when she first saw her friend. The deafening sound of her breathing that had hidden Aerek from her at the time she truly passed by him, not knowing, suddenly ended. All that was there was silence, until running feet broke it. Her stunned brain wished it to be the feet of medics, ready with tranquilizers and promises of a safe room - a happy ending.
It was Sariel, however, invigorated by his last kill. The burst of adrenalin for which he lived was the only reward for his toils. She had only faint hope of escaping him. She knew of the Window, and would cross through. He was a floor below her, and she only had one staircase left. She must make it into the hallway before he turns the corner and glimpses her. She must cross the threshold before he enters the hallway. She must cross the living room before he enters!
She sprang over the couch into the wall. She landed on spring grass.
~.~.~.~.~
Sariel entered the living room, eyes closed, dagger held tightly in his right hand, by his side, for the first time in his life wishing that he did not have to kill. He could not risk another encounter with this enchantress, and held the knife up, not caring if the sun glanced off the bloody blade. He opened his eyes and beheld an empty room.