"Get in!" I shouted, holding the back door of the Aston Martin open.
The woman with the white hair didn't run. She glided. She moved like a film reel skipping frames, one moment she was on the pavement, the next she was sliding across the leather upholstery of the back seat.
"Drive, Wolf," she commanded coolly. "He doesn't like to run, but he walks very fast."
Adrien stomped on the accelerator. The car roared, tires smoking as we peeled away from the bridge.
I looked back through the rear window.
There was no monster chasing us. There were no explosions.
Instead, the world behind us was simply… vanishing.
The stone bridge we had just been standing on didn't collapse. It faded to white. The streetlamps, the fog, the water of the canal, they were being erased, replaced by a blank, ter
