Sure, we weren’t the enemies here, and they weren’t exactly looking for us. But revealing our presence wasn’t going to help anything.
For a few seconds, the beams of light danced back and forth across the passageway. Apparently satisfied it held no threat, they drew back their beams and moved on.
“Next idea?” I whispered.
Ethan looked around, then pointed above us. “There,” he said. “If we can’t go around, we go up.”
I glanced at the rusty and rickety fire escape that stopped six feet above our heads. It reached up to the roof, seven or eight floors above us, in a tangle of landings and ladders that didn’t look entirely safe.
“Are you sure?” I asked.
“It’s our best option,” Ethan said ruefully. “I’ll go first. You can follow me.”
Ethan jumped up and grabbed the bottom rung, pulling until the ladder released and clanked its way to the ground. He shook it, testing its mettle and metal. It didn’t collapse, but bits of ice and rust flew to the ground like dander.
“And up we go,” he said, stepping onto the first rung and climbing to the first landing.
Since this wasn’t the best time to argue about safety, I kept my mouth shut and followed him, climbing upward, one foot over another. The climb became monotonous—climb the ladder, switchback around the landing, climb the next ladder.
I made it to the seventh floor—nearly to the top—when a boom shook the building and the fire escape—and the vampire upon it.
My heart stuttered, and my boot slipped on ice. My knee hit the rung below, singing out in pain, and I felt myself falling, without even time to call out Ethan’s name for help.
He saved me anyway, reaching down from the landing above me and grabbing my wrist, holding it tight. “Steady now, Sentinel.”
I nodded, ignoring the sound of the explosion and pursing my lips to slow my breathing, and felt for the rungs until I found my footing.
“I’m okay,” I said when all four limbs were once again attached to the fire escape.
Ethan climbed over the ledge, then helped me over, and we dashed to the other side of the building to look down at the scene below.
A small part of me—the part that still believed in Santa Claus—wished we’d look out upon the city to find the fires extinguished, Grey House in pristine shape, and vampires and humans shaking hands on the sidewalk.
Instead, we found a war zone.
Flames rose from the front of Grey House, two blocks north of us. The path in between was filled with a boisterous mix of rioters and the CPD units trying to control them. Like the cops we’d seen in the alley below, they were outfitted in black, with helmets and shields, and they marched in a line toward the rioters from various directions, pushing them into a smaller and smaller area. But like putting a thumb over the end of a garden hose, condensing the anger only seemed to make it worse. The rioters yelled and raised their makeshift weapons—sports equipment, tools, kitchen knives—the tension only escalating as the camps moved closer.
“Jesu Christi,” Ethan murmured.
“There’s a lot of them,” I said.
Ethan nodded and pulled out his phone. He dialed Luc’s number, holding the phone out so I could hear. “Where are you?”
“In front of Grey House,” Luc said, crackling and noise in the background. “Fire department’s here. The fire is nearly under control.”
“We heard an explosion,” Ethan said.
“It wasn’t from the House,” Luc assured. “It must have been from somewhere else in the neighborhood. The cops have made a pretty good perimeter around the House, and Juliet and I are helping with the evacuation. It’s clear Jonah’s very good. The first wave of rioters had the firebombs, but he established a perimeter very quickly, set up a zone around the House.”
“Molotov cocktails?” Ethan asked.
“Just like the first riot, yeah. At least three made contact,” Luc said. “The fire department went through the roof to extinguish the flames; the atrium is toast. Water and glass and ash everywhere. Six vamps with severe burns, two currently unconscious. All were Novitiates; no staff.”
I closed my eyes in relief. Jonah was staff, which meant he was okay. For now.
“We’re on the roof of a building facing north,” Ethan said. “The CPD’s put a perimeter of bodies around the rioters at”—he paused to squint at the street signs—“Seminary and Cornelia, I think. The cops are trying to move them east, probably out of the residential areas.”
Suddenly, a rioter carrying a mean-looking serrated shovel emerged through the knot of rioters and toward the police, raising his shovel against the closest cop. The cop used his shield to ward off the hit but still fell to his knees from the force of the blow. More cops joined the fray, pulling the attacker away, but creating a hole in the perimeter. Before it closed again, a handful of rioters slipped through the gap, heading north toward Grey House.