Chapter 4

Rogue turned her face to the struggling sun as she walked down the sidewalk, a green messenger bag hanging from her shoulder. After this job, she would disappear somewhere for a few weeks. Somewhere warm with cliffs to jump from. Maybe she would try base jumping or flying a squirrel suit from the top of Angel Falls in Venezuela, her dream jump. Exhilaration stirred her good feelings. She had the file that was worth a small fortune. All that was left was to get it to Soren.

She hooked a right, heading to the parking garage where she’d left one of her cars the night before. As she turned the corner, a cold wind blasted her, lifting her hair and reminding her spring was still only a promise, despite the sunshine. She pulled her light jacket tighter around her, cinched her stocking cap lower, and slouched a bit more. Cold weather was a friend in her business, bulky clothes and caps providing concealment that made her almost invisible. Long sleeves hid the knives strapped to her forearms.

She’d ditched the coveralls and cap back in the maintenance closet where she’d gotten them, intending to put them back in the stack, but she hadn’t been able to resist a load of wash agitating in the machine deep in the back of the small room. She had stuffed both items in, not reflecting on her luck. She’d always been an extraordinarily lucky criminal.

Halfway up the dusty concrete stairs to the second floor of the parking garage where her car was stashed, her senses pricked up. She slowed her steps and glanced to the ceiling of the stairwell. No one there. She peered over the handrail. No one below her either. But it wasn’t her being watched, she realized, it was her car. She had no idea how she could know such a thing, but she trusted her instincts implicitly. She kept climbing the steps past the floor she had intended to enter, all the way to the fourth floor, then pushed open the heavy steel door into the echoes and stink of the garage. She strode purposefully across the concrete, her Ugg boots making almost no noise. Ugg, she hated the boots, but they worked with her college girl ensemble/disguise which also included yoga pants, and a fur-fringed jacket pulled deep over her face.

She felt the eyes of her first tail fall on her right away, coming from the roof of the squat building across the street. She faked hurrying to her car in the far corner, out of his view, but his eyes didn’t slide off her. His interest didn’t go elsewhere. Which meant he’d been warned how good she was, and he would not dismiss her as the unrelated person she was trying to appear to be.

As she walked, shoulders hunched, hands shoved deep in fur-lined pockets, she thought about who was watching her, and why? If it was Soren, it meant he suddenly didn’t trust her, and that meant she could be in real trouble. The guy was dangerous. Not to her, never to her, but why would he watch her?

Rogue lowered her head, circled the row of cars, and headed back for the exit, feeling the interest on her double, although she still hadn’t placed the second watcher. She reached the exit door, hit it at a run, and shot down the stairs as lightly as she could in the ridiculous boots. They were good for not making any sound, at least. Once on the ground floor, she headed back the way she had come.

To lose herself in a crowd.

Any crowd.

***

Rogue dodged people on the sidewalk, weighing her options. She hadn’t been followed the night before or any time recently. These watchers were new, and somehow they’d known which car was hers, a feat which should have been impossible. It had been bought with cash, registered under one of her aliases, and left in storage until she needed it. She couldn’t think of one person who knew that alias, although she could think of a dozen who might have reason to follow her.

Her tails were still behind her and there were more now, one on the block to her left and one on the block to her right, keeping time, while more tracked her from behind, coming fast. They didn’t have a visual, but she bet they had radio, and they would be on her in moments if she didn’t do something quickly.

On impulse, Rogue turned to her right and jogged up the steps of a brownstone, her eyes scouting the lock type, her fingers teasing a curtain pick out of her pack on their own. She only had a few short moments before her tails were close enough to see her. She was an amazingly fast pick, but was anyone that fast?

She reached the door. Her fingers brought out her tool and seated it in the lock as her eyes searched the room beyond the glass. No people. It was a foyer to what looked to be a two-unit building. Perfect. Score one more for her intuition.

Before she had a chance to feel the placement of the levers or turn her pick, a succession of soft clicks told her the levers were sprung.

She frowned. She hadn’t even- shit. She turned the knob, pushed open the door, and slipped inside, ensuring the door behind her was locked again, then sprinted up the stairs. A window on the second floor would give her a much better vantage point to see who was following her without them seeing her.

She reached the window just in time. From just to the left of it, she saw her follower on the sidewalk closest to her, and his partner across the street. They were dressed similarly. Work boots, dark pants and shirt and jacket, caps on their heads. They strode forward with purpose, eyes scanning the people in front of them.

That they were Soren’s men seemed more likely than ever.

Which made no sense at all. He didn’t need to tail her. She was headed to his place next. She’d never given him any reason not to trust her.

She bit her lip and pressed a hand to the glass, craning her neck to watch the backs of the two men disappear down the sidewalk.

Contingencies raced through Rogue’s mind. She couldn’t let anyone track her, even Soren. Especially Soren. In her business, when the big boss didn’t trust you, you turned up dead. She was way too young for that shit.

She’d known she wouldn’t be able to do what she did forever, but was it really time to get out so early? Her nest egg, the one that needed to last for the rest of her life, was still half-empty. She frowned. Half-empty. Half-hatched. Whatever. She was a thief and a spy, not a fucking writer.

Rogue began to form a plan. Step one, she would change disguises. No one beat her at her own game. Ever. Step two, she would visit Soren. Feel him out. Only then would she be able to decide what to do next. If he wanted her dead, there was no way it would happen at his house. Or near his house. He didn’t operate like that.

Nearest disguise? She pulled out her phone and looked at her private map. The Englewood post office was the closest. She had a post office box there where she mailed herself a box of clothes once a month, as she did many places in Chicago. It was just good sense.

Decision made, Rogue hurried down the stairs and out the door, turning left and walking the opposite way of the two men who’d trailed her, her senses telling her she was unwatched. She had no sense of the two men anymore, which meant they had lost her completely.

Within moments, she was close to the post office, approaching it from the east, the sun shining from almost directly overhead, heating the day to a pleasant temperature, despite the still-chilly wind.

The post office loomed in front of her, all tan brick and harsh lines. The closer she got, the more her teeth clenched. Something about the place set her on edge. Even before she’d heard of Dr. Henry Howard Holmes or Herman Mudgett, which was his real name, she’d hated visiting this post office. The echoing of her feet on the tiled floor and the closed-in-ness of the square, squat building stirred a dusty fear inside of her that was rare for her to feel. She had only one true fear that she knew of, well, maybe two, because they went hand in hand, and something about this building made her think of them. A certain emptiness beneath her feet as she walked in the building that always made her think the dungeons belonging to America’s first serial killer hadn’t been fully filled in like everyone claimed they had. She could sense something below the building.

Rogue used her laser focus to control her emotions, walling them off into a tiny square and covering them with the steel discipline she’d perfected as a vulnerable young girl. In and out, she’d be done in no time. No time for fear or indecision.

Rogue walked up the steps as she had dozens of times before… but she immediately noticed something off. A strange pulse called her attention, firing her neurons and making her muscles sing.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Rogue frowned and looked around. A man pushing out the exit doors to leave didn’t seem to notice anything amiss. Her body on autopilot, she walked in the door he held open for her and made a left to head to her box.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

The sound became louder, like a heartbeat, a living, breathing heartbeat that was not her own, but somehow conveyed excitement to her.

Her own heart sped up, and it wasn’t a bad feeling. A humming started inside of her, like power, like electricity, wrapping her muscles and bones in energy. Her eyes crawled over the rows of identical numbered post office boxes in front of her, barely seeing them. She felt, suddenly, like she could fry something with a glare or a touch. Power thrummed through her, shaking loose the trepidation the building brought to her, dissolving the negative emotion in heat and light.

Rogue sensed something wanted her. Something huge and brimming with life. She looked down at her hand, surprised to see it looked normal. No light shot out of it. No electricity sparkled from her fingers.

She dropped her hand and let her body do what it did best. Act normal, no matter what was going on inside her, no matter what her thoughts were hiding. Her feet carried her in front of the row of boxes where her post office box was. She knelt and reached to the flat pouch around her waist to dig out her keys.

A voice sounded, making her hand falter. It seemed to come from everywhere, and yet not outside of her. After a moment’s contemplation, she realized she placed its origin right at her heart.

Rogue, come. Come to us. We belong with you.

Rogue looked around, eyes blinking rapidly. No one was paying her any attention yet. There weren’t many people there. A mom and a baby to her right, four or five people in line. A big guy coming in the door behind her. A few employees. None of them seemed to notice anything out of the ordinary.

The voice had been loud in her ears, with a feminine lilt and tone, but still clear and booming, like whoever had spoken to her did it through a megaphone.

Rogue stayed where she was and turned inward, replaying the statement. She didn’t know what had spoken to her, or if she were completely out of her mind, but she could feel the rightness of the statement, they did belong with her. Whatever they were.

Mine? she thought, digging around in her experiences, trying to sort out what was happening.

But no, that wasn’t quite right. They belonged with her, more than they belonged where they were, but they did not belong to her.

Sister, sprang to her mind and she clenched her teeth together again. This had nothing to do with Amaranth, or did it?

Dizzy, Rogue leaned against the post office boxes in front of her. Her touch created a cascading waterfall of clicks and all the little metal doors sprung open, revealing mail-filled boxes.

Rogue pulled her hand away, startled and appalled, dropping heavily to her knees.

Rogue, come now. You must come.

Unable to make any sense of what was happening to her, Rogue shot to her feet. Mailboxes flipped open all around her, creating cracks like gunshots as the moving doors slammed into each other. An employee yelled and another called back, their voices filled with confusion. Eyes fell on Rogue. She raised her hands, showing they were open and empty, then backed away from the post office boxes, turning and hurrying out of the building, leaving the confusion of the employees behind her.

Rogue pulled in on herself as soon as she got outside. She turned right at the bottom of the stairs, following the unwavering thumping and humming of power that was in her very blood, calling to her. She turned right again at the end of the building and hurried over the sodden grass, which was smashed flat by the weight of recent winter snow, then more-recent spring showers.

An overpass stood in front of her, cars whizzing by on top of it. She couldn’t see them, but she could hear them. She hurried to the side of the concrete overpass, pushing through the overgrown weeds and kicking aside an old smelly blanket to get close to it.

She reached out a hand to touch the wall at eye level, but her attention was called by something at knee level. Etched into the concrete wall of the overpass were three grooves in the concrete that met in a way that made it look like a small door, barely big enough for an adult to squeeze through. It stood no higher than her knees and was the size of a dog door for a rather large dog.

Rogue stared at it, understanding filling her. Oh no, she was not going in there. She didn’t care how right the voice sounded to her, how much power it was filling her with.

Rogue, yes, come. Come to us.

Rogue squeezed her eyes shut. The power hummed through her, and her hands moved of their own accord. They touched the concrete side of the overpass, but the door had no lock, no knob. It didn’t matter. As soon as she touched it, she heard levers spring, and the door that looked like concrete swung open, revealing darkness beyond. Rogue took a step backwards, her eyes locked on it.

“No, not underground. I can’t.” She almost whimpered and she hated herself for the weakness.

You can. We are here.

Oh God, she had to. She squeezed her eyes shut.

No. Choose to do it, or don’t do it. You have to do nothing.

Rogue squeezed her eyes shut, her fingernails scrabbled into her palms, digging at the skin there.

She chose.

Digging a tiny light from her pack, Rogue stepped forward, then knelt and shined it into the hole. Only the opening was small, as soon as she got inside, she could stand.

The air that hit her face was stale and old. But she would not tarry. Her decision had been made.

She shimmied into the hole, her eyes crawling over the dank walls and the dirty ground and the downward slope. She could feel that no eyes were on her as she entered, and no one saw the door swing shut behind her.