Stone-Cold Heart (Excerpt), Mythos Legacy Book Four

Chapter One, Part One

Heat roiled up from the sidewalk, and Raquel lifted her head skyward to avoid the worst of the eye-searing wave. Apparently, autumn hadn't received the calendar's memo that warm fronts were banned for the rest of the year. Her gaze landed on the fifth floor windows of the apartment building that was to be her new home.

Dump sweet dump.

The cabbie tossed her duffel bags-less than gently-onto the pavement beside her. Luckily, she didn't own much, and most of it wasn't breakable.

Her now-former roommate didn't accept his treatment as quietly. "Hey, hey! That's her whole life in those things. A little respect."

Raquel ignored the ensuing argument and sidestepped Brianna's exuberant gesturing to give the guy his fare. The taxicab was a block away by the time Brianna wrapped up the last of her insults. Raquel righted the one bag with wheels and yanked up the handle.

Brianna eyed her. "Are you sure you're going to be okay on your own, Kell? What are you going to do when you don't have me around to defend you?"

Defend her? Seriously? Which of them had been in combat?

She didn't bother with a reply. Brianna simply was who she was. They might share a Puerto Rican heritage, but Brianna's boisterous take on the world was far closer to the fiery Latina stereotype than Raquel's style would ever be.

She'd much rather stay dispassionate. Emotions were distractions-interfering with her situational awareness of dangers around her.

"I'll be fine. It's better this way. Trust me."

Brianna grabbed the suitcase, leaving the non-rolling duffel bags for Raquel. "I don't blame you, you know."

That was the trouble. Brianna treated her like an innocent bystander instead of the lethal killer she really was. PTSD wasn't a Get Out of Jail Free card for every unacceptable behavior, the way Brianna seemed to think it was.

"Paula was already sick of my nightmare-screaming every night, so the sleepwalking thing was the final nail."

In truth, sleepwalking was her final sign that she needed to live on her own before she hurt someone. What if she'd forgotten to take the magazine out of her weapon before tucking it under her pillow? An icy shiver shot up her spine. She refused to be responsible for more deaths just because she needed a metallic security blanket to sleep.

"Yeah..." Brianna slipped her oversized sunglasses off the top of her head and untangled its arms from her long, highlighted hair. "Maybe I wish Paula was the one moving out and not you." She put on her sunglasses and finally checked out the building in front of them. "This is the place, huh?"

Brianna's voice lifted on the last word, probably in an attempt to disguise her disappointed-teacher tone. Granted, the old mid-rise didn't look like much anymore. Back in the day, though, it must have been something.

Like many of the older buildings in the Upper West Side of New York City, carvings of leaves, flowers, and scrolls decorated the stone façade, but the years had not been kind. In addition to the usual fire escapes and air conditioning units cluttering the front, patches of mismatched bricks filled in damaged sections every few feet.

"Oh, a grotesque!"

Raquel leaned, scanning past the tree branches for what Brianna was focused on near the roof. "What's gross?"

"Not gross. A grotesque, a carved stone figure. There, where the center of the building steps back from the front, making that section one floor shorter than the rest. You can see its head just peeking over the wall on that lower section of the roof."

"Oh, you mean the gargoyle? Yeah, that's my new apartment to the right of it."

Raquel hefted a duffel bag strap over each shoulder and climbed the steps to the entry door. Brianna followed with the suitcase, her voice in teacher mode.

"Technically, it's a gargoyle only if it acts as a water spout."

"Huh." Raquel didn't bother faking enthusiasm for the subject and instead squared her shoulders, bracing for Brianna's reaction to the interior. A century ago, the building had been a swanky hotel, and the place still sported peeling vintage wallpaper and a tarnished chandelier, which hung precariously in the high-ceilinged lobby.

The squeak of suitcase wheels behind Brianna stopped. "This has got to be the biggest dump in all of the Upper West Side. And here I thought you were moving up in the world by leaving Bushwick. How did you find this place?"

"A search for the cheapest place I could find within walking distance of work."

Everyone had their priorities, and for Raquel, that meant avoiding the crowds of public transportation. Yet the cab fare for the alternative made the old neighborhood in Brooklyn a no-go for her current Upper West Side job. This central location would also be better if she ever got her act together and returned to college.

Someday she might not be as broken, right? A girl could dream anyway.

She steered them toward the stairs. Brianna side-eyed the ornate, open-cage elevator. "Let me guess, the elevator doesn't work?"

"Uh, no." Raquel held in a laugh. Even if the elevator was working, she wouldn't trust such an enclosed space. The open scrollwork of the elevator cage made it a fancy-looking trap, but a trap nonetheless. "But the apartment includes all utilities, even internet, and comes furnished."

"Yeah, with bedbugs."

Compared to her deployment at one of the most remote forward operating bases in Afghanistan, any bed was a luxury, so Raquel wasn't going to complain about the possibility of a less-than-pristine mattress. "I'll deal."

By the third floor, Brianna was huffing and moaning at each step. "You go ahead. I'll catch up after I find my lungs."

Raquel didn't wait to see if Brianna would change her mind. She took the remaining stairs two at a time, relishing the ability of the scarred skin on her left leg to make the full stretch, and opened the door to her new apartment. Bright sunlight greeted her from the multiple windows of the studio unit, and she dropped her duffel bags, enjoying the silence.

Her own apartment. She felt almost hopeful for the first time in months. Years? This was a moment to be savored.

Financially, the no-roommate thing wouldn't help her all-too-empty wallet build up savings, but it would be nice to relax and not have to worry about what she might do to others during the night. The nightmares didn't need any assistance impeding her sleep.