Finally, she resumed her long journey.
She plodded through the hallway with her head down, the pistol clutched in one hand. Every step felt like climbing a mountain. She forced herself to press on because she knew she would collapse if she allowed herself to stop.
Slamming her shoulder against the stairwell door, she groaned as she forced the thing open. And then she began her ascent. How many floors to the roof? Two? Three? Why couldn’t anything be easy?
Halfway up the third flight of stairs, Raphael appeared at her side. Instead of the rumpled clothes she had seen when they fought in the hangar, he wore a sleek, golden cassock that seemed to shimmer in the soft light. Had she known that he was a reverend before this? Her memory was so muddled, but it seemed to her that she should have
