But her pursuer had not lost any time. Once again, she was hovering right above her. Eloise tried to move faster, but she was not quick enough. The scalpel came at her right hand. The girl released the hand, screaming in terror.
She was dangling in the air, gripping the bar with just her left hand.
Overwhelmed with panic, she screamed.
The woman, crouching over the edge of the roof, raised the scalpel once more.
Eloise managed to grab the bar with her right hand just as the scalpel came down and slashed her left hand to the bone. Broken, lost, Eloise twisted on herself, hanging precariously by her right arm.
When her shoulder could no longer sustain the weight, Eloise knew she had no choice. She had to let go.
With a shriek, she fell.
The next moment, she crashed. A wave of pain coursed through her body, blasting her ribs and knocking the wind out of her. Tiles shattered all around, and once again, she was slipping down a steep rooftop.
She struggled to find something to grab and managed to get an arm around a chimney. Using all of her protesting muscles, she pulled herself into a sitting position and rested for a moment against the bricks. She was breathless and badly cut. She was losing blood.
No sooner had she caught her breath than her pursuer landed on the same roof, just a short distance away. The woman’s hysterical laugh rose against the backdrop of the thunder.
Gasping, ignoring her pain, Eloise began to climb the roof.
95
“I saw them!” Vauvert shouted over the thunder. “The girl is still alive! Saint-Clair is after her!”
Leroy, who had just climbed the iron rungs too, hauled himself up next to Vauvert and leaned against a chimney. The icy rain poured between them.
“Where? I can’t see anything!”
“Over there!” Vauvert shouted, waving toward them. “We have to hurry!”
“We’re going to kill ourselves if we go after them! We have no equipment!”
Vauvert was not listening. He began making his way cautiously along the edge of the tiles. He managed to walk for a good twenty feet, holding onto rusty pipes and parapets that ran between roofs like veins of some gigantic monster. The slippery tin crest, assailed by the storm, was reminiscent of a strange mountain where any wrong move could result in death. Vauvert walked over several skylights, none of them lit. The rain kept blasting down, making it nearly impossible to know how much distance he had covered. He kept moving, knowing he had a chance. If only he could catch up to them before it was too late.
“Can you see them?” Leroy called out from behind him.
“Not yet.”
He finally reached the edge of the apartment building. He spotted a small ladder attached to a ventilation shaft that led down to the adjacent facade. He realized that all the buildings in the neighborhood were connected this way. Before his eyes was a maze of passageways, ledges and ladders. A bit farther on, the planks and tarpaulin of a scaffold spanned the street, linking the roofs to one another. But just about everywhere, he could also see rectangular openings, which were no doubt inner courtyards. Falling into any of these abysses would mean instant death. The remainder of the rooftop landscape was terraces of varying sizes, abrupt inclines and gray slopes pounded by rain.
In the midst of the raging storm, he could not see Saint-Clair or her victim anymore. But this was the way they had gone. He was sure of that. If he reached the far end of this roof, he would get to the ledge Eloise had fallen from. And he would see where she landed. He slowly climbed down the rusty rungs, praying that the ladder would support his weight. The ladder swayed a little, but held on.
Once he had set both of his feet on the next rooftop, he was able to stand more easily. The slant of this roof was not as pronounced. Still, he would have to move with extreme caution to avoid slipping on the wet tin.
A bolt of lightning blinded him again. It was only then, after thunder made the entire building shake, that he heard the screams.
He looked back in Leroy’s direction. His colleague was trying to get his attention. He was shouting something, but the racket of the storm was drowning him out.
“What? I can’t hear you!” he shouted.
“Behind you.”
Vauvert felt his blood curdle. He spun around as quickly as he could.
A wolf, ready to pounce.
Eyes like red flames surged through the rain and the dark. The beast lunged at his throat. Moving instinctively, Vauvert raised his arms to block it.
The impact was tremendous. The growling mass threw him off his feet. Vauvert crashed against the roof, while the beast’s nails tore through the sleeve of his leather coat and dug into his skin. Yet Vauvert managed to grip the animal’s neck. He squeezed it with all his might, keeping its black jaws, full of razor-sharp teeth, at arm’s length, away from his vulnerable throat. Now he could feel the beast clawing at his stomach and his thighs. The dreadful jaws snapped at his face. It took every bit of Vauvert’s strength to keep them at bay.
In the next moment, Vauvert realized that they had begun to slip down the roof. There was nothing he could do to stop the slide or the animal. He had lost his weapon when the creature lunged at him.
They hit a chimney. The beast yelped, then snapped its jaws again, trying to get closer to his face.
They continued tumbling down the tin roof.
And as they reached the edge, they toppled over and went into a free fall.
96
The fall was surreal.
Vauvert felt his bowels jump into his chest.
Then there was the collision that was breathtakingly brutal. His back hit the tiles, shattering them. He thought he might go all the way through the roof, but he did not. Although his arms and legs were free, his back was caught in the sharp-edged debris.
The frothing creature remained on top of him, but still he kept it at arm’s length, his hands holding its neck in a vice grip. The thing roared and thrashed, its jaws snapping inches from his face. Then it began shifting, It had the appearance of a wolf, yet its red eyes held an awareness and cruelty that was beyond animalistic. Suddenly, Vauvert knew he had been right. That thing was none other than Roman Salaville, the man he had chased and shot dead once already. It was Roman Salaville reincarnated in this flesh that was not entirely real. It was his deranged spirit, anyway. He had followed his mistress all the way here.
His muscles bulging, Vauvert squeezed the neck of this animal that had Roman Salaville’s eyes with all his might. And he managed to extricate himself from the bed of shattered tiles.
He rolled to his side and straddled the wolf in the torrent of rain. The beast’s eyes locked on his. Their red brightness was blinding, threatening to sap his energy. All around him, the world started whirling.
Vauvert stopped thinking. Relying on the strength in his abs, he righted himself, breaking more of the tiles in the process, and put a knee down, ready to pivot.
It was now or never.
With a powerful twist that shot pain through every muscle of his body, he swung and tossed the flailing animal over the edge of the roof.
Vauvert could not believe his luck. He kept waiting for the thing to come back. It didn’t. He had actually
