I pushed to my knees, then my feet. Saw Misha was still upright, still fighting. The blue thing was obviously just a safety measure, because nothing else had come out of the darkness of the stairwell.

Time to get the hell out of here. I fired the lasers, and kept on firing, sweeping them steadily against the mass of watery spiders as I ran toward Misha. The creatures skittered away under the assault, leaving a clear path to the stairwell. Misha leapt toward it, and I followed, spinning and firing even as the shadows and coldness of the dark stairwell closed in around me. Misha slapped a hand against another lever, then thrust his weight against the door. It slid shut, catching several of the spiders mid-leap, squashing them flat between door and wall. I lasered the dribbling remains just to be safe, then let loose a long, shuddering breath of relief. Though God knows why—we weren't out of the woods yet.

Misha leaned against the concrete wall, his eyes closed and breathing harsh. He looked like shit, and his mauled face was beginning to puff up and bruise, but at least he was still alive.

I touched a hand to his shoulder. "We have to move."

He nodded, and pushed away from the wall. "Up, not down."

"To the roof?" Fear skittered through my gut at the thought. "Won't that be trapping ourselves?"

He shook his head, and rubbed a hand across his stomach, wincing a little. "No. He obviously knows about this escape route, and would expect us to go down."

"But what's on the roof, and why won't he know about it?"

"They're gutting the building next door, and, in the last week, have punched huge holes in the side wall to get ready for windows. From the roof we can jump through them to one of the open floors. He wouldn't expect that."

That's because normal people wouldn't try it. And people who were afraid of heights certainly wouldn't. I licked suddenly dry lips. "Is it much of a jump?"

He shook his head, his look of pain intensifying. No surprise, really, given the mess his face was in. It had to hurt like hell to talk. "Not much for a wolf."

Oh God… I blew out a breath, and gathered courage. Facing a pet fear head-on was better than facing any more of those damn spiders. Besides, with Misha looking so bad, it was doubtful he'd be much use in the fighting stakes.

"You want to lead the way?"

He nodded and staggered forward, grasping the metal rail as he hauled himself up the concrete steps. Our footsteps echoed across the silence, and I could only hope that if there was something waiting down below, they'd think we were coming toward them, not away.

It was only ten flights to the roof, but it felt like a hundred. We were both trembling and sweating by the time we reach the metal door, but in my case, I knew its cause was tension and fear.

Misha pressed bloody fingers to a button and pressed it. Locks clicked, but I stopped him from pushing the door open. "Let me go first. I'm in better condition."

He nodded and hung back, his hand still pressed to his stomach and the look of intense pain seemingly entrenched on his mauled features.

Taking a deep breath, I slowly, carefully, opened the door. Nothing stirred the night except the cool breeze. Metal creaked somewhere to my right, and from the left came the steady hum of traffic, soft laughter, and babble of voices as people walked past. From farther away still came the bass thump of rock music.

Switching to infrared, I opened the door wider, and stepped out. No splashes of body heat greeted me, though if the spiders were up here, I wouldn't have seen them anyway.

The night breeze stirred my hair, and suddenly I was aware of the space and the night, and the sensation that we were high, so high, swamped me. Cold sweat broke out across my skin and my stomach rose. I closed my eyes, swallowing heavily.

I could do this.

I really could.

I switched back to normal vision, and glanced at Misha. He was sweating profusely, and shaking with pain. Shock, or something else? I didn't know, but it was obvious I had to get him to the hospital, and fast.

"I think it's safe."

He nodded and pushed past, heading to the left of the door. A building loomed above us, its inner bones revealed by the massive holes dotting its side.

The shifting haze skimmed across Misha's body, and in wolf form, he ran for the ledge and leapt for the nearest gap. I watched as he hit the other side, his body only half in, his back legs scrabbling for purchase on the rough old bricks. My heart lodged somewhere in my throat, and for several seconds I couldn't even breathe, my fear for him was so great. Then he was in, and safe, and it was my turn.

Oh God, oh God.

I licked my lips again, my eyes on the building directly opposite. It was just a little jump. A tiny jump. A sneeze when compared to some of the things I'd jumped in the past.

I called to the wolf within, felt the haze of energy sweep across my body.

But I couldn't force my paws forward. The concrete seemed to be attached to my feet, holding me down, holding me still.

Then I heard it.

The scrabble of tiny feet against concrete.

The spiders had found a way into the stairwell. It was either the jump or the spiders, and I'd had more than enough spiders for one day.

I sucked in a breath, then ran across the roof as fast as four legs would carry me. Not thinking, not looking, just running.

My leap was long and high, and it was terrifying to feel the wind batter my body, to see nothing but a long drop underneath me. My stomach rose and fear clenched my gut, my lungs, and breathing was suddenly impossible.

Then my claws hit concrete, and I was sliding to safety. I changed shape back to human form, but for several seconds couldn't move, couldn't do anything but sweat and shake and gasp for air.

But the thought that the spiders might somehow be able spray themselves across the gap got me moving. I rose and looked around for Misha. He was halfway across the gutted expanse, heading for the stairs.

"Misha, wait."

He stopped. I caught up with him. The smell of sweat and blood and fear tainted the air, and when his gaze met mine, true terror lurked in the silver depths. My stomach plummeted. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong.

"I feel like shit," he croaked.

"That's because you look like shit." I wrapped an arm around his waist, half-supporting him as I hurried forward. "My car is across the road. You'll be fine once I get you to hospital."

He coughed and moisture spurted from his mouth. Moisture that was bloody. God, he had internal injuries. "Hang on, Misha," I muttered, almost dragging him as I half-ran for the stairs. "Just hang on."

"You were right," he said, his voice so soft it was barely audible over the sound of our steps. "He figured a way into my foxhole."

"But he didn't kill us, and that's a plus."

"I'm not so sure about that." He stumbled as he said it, bringing us both down.

I grunted as the shock of the fall reverberated from my knees to brain. Misha rolled onto his back, his face contorted and his hands clutching at his stomach. "God," he said, voice a harsh rasp of suffering. "It feels like I'm being eaten inside out—" He stopped as a cough racked him, and bits of blood and water and what looked like specks of flesh gushed from his mouth.

And I remembered that creature on his face. Remembered thinking it was half the size it had originally looked.

Horror filled me, boiling through my body until it felt like my stomach was going to leap up into my throat.

Misha was being eaten from the inside out. When that spider creature had leapt onto his face, it hadn't only eaten his flesh. It had also poured part of itself into his body and somewhere inside re-formed to continue its bloody task.

His hand caught mine, dragging it to his mutilated lips, pressing a kiss I couldn't really feel against my fingertips. "End it, Riley. If you feel anything at—" He stopped again, and this time the rush of water that accompanied the cough was thicker. I shuddered, the bitter taste of bile heavy in my throat, the urge to run battling with the urge to scream and rage against the wiles of fate.