Page 79 of The Night Firm

I’m almost there.

The stairs behind me creak.

And I know he’s standing where I stood a moment ago.

Keep moving, Jerry. Just keep going up.

He doesn’t.

A sniff.

Another.

Like a hungry dog locked onto a scent.

I climb forward.

The torch is below me.

The rope within my reach.

I climb forward.

And something digs into my arm. Hot and sharp. A piece of splintered wood I hadn’t seen. I suck in my breath, burying all the pain blooming under my skin, and reach forward, my hand slick with blood, and grab hold of the rope.

Silence.

The quiet before the storm.

The moment before the predator’s leap.

I let myself fall, sliding down the rope, skin tearing from my palms in my haste.

The beast flies over me.

Landing where I was just a moment ago.

I made it, I think, for one ludicrous second.

And the wooden beam cracks under his weight.

The rope goes slack in my hands.

And we both fall to the ground.

I land with a crunch, my head hitting stone, my body collapsing near the burning torch. Spots blur my vision. Nausea fills my gut.

Two sets of claws land before me.

I am laying at the beast's heels.

Broken and weak. And suddenly, I am taken back to another time, another me, one who was beaten and choked. One who was left alone to weep on the floor and wonder what she did wrong. But that is me no longer.

The pain leaves me, burned away by a surge of strength. My mind is clear and light. My skin has forgotten the cold. And I stand, feet steady as rock, and I look the monster in the eye.

“You will never hurt me again,” I say. “Know that. Even if you kill me now. Even if you rip me apart. I will feel nothing for you. Not anger. Not sadness. Not fear. Nothing.” I take a breath. “I am not afraid.”

The beast tilts his head, as if he hears something I do not. And then he charges.