Doc Sidhe Read Free Page B

tried to take another drink, but lifted a wad of newsprint to his mouth.
    He stared accusingly at his hand. It had brought the wrong stuff. It failed him even when he wasn't throwing a backfist with it.
    He smoothed out the wad of paper and smiled down at the expectation and hope he saw in his own younger face.
    Then, with meticulous care, he tore the first article's headline free and let it flutter to the sidewalk. That felt good. Half a dozen words he no longer had to live up to.
    Walking toward Gaby's home, he ripped loose another strip of words.
     
    Gaby got her apartment door closed and threw the three deadbolts on it.
    Her feet hurt. She must have walked for two hours after she left Harris.
    And she still hadn't eaten. Small wonder. That talk had killed her appetite. She wondered if she'd be hungry again before summer.
    Someone knocked on the front door, startling her. Her visitor must have come up the stairs right behind her. Gaby put her eye to the peephole.
    Her visitor was an old man, elegantly dressed, his face merry—the perfect grandfather, obviously rich and good-natured. It had to be one of the other tenants; she hadn't buzzed anyone into the building. She'd never seen him before. "Who is it?" she asked.
    "Miss, ah, Gabriela Donohue?"
    "That's right." She waited patiently; no need to unlock the door, no matter how innocuous he looked, until he satisfied her that she had a reason to.
    "Thank you," he said. Then he stepped away from the door, out of sight.
    Someone moved in to take his place. It was a man in a dark overcoat, so tall that she could not see above the knot of his gray necktie, so wide that he seemed to match the door in breadth. Gaby took an involuntary step back.
    There was a sharp bang! and the door crashed down, its locks and hinges shattered; it fell against Gaby and staggered her. Beyond, the huge man was striding forward, and the old man and another intruder came close behind. . . .
    Gaby felt icy terror grip her stomach. She turned and ran. She had to reach her bedroom, the fire escape outside her window—
    The huge man caught up to her before she reached the door to her room. He hit her like someone might swat a puppy. The blow took her on the hip and spun her to the floor, sent her rolling into the corner with her TV.
    She stared up at him and got a good look at what served him as a face.
    The sight froze the breath in her lungs. She sat unmoving as he came at her.
     
    Harris dropped the last piece of the last article and watched it float off into the darkness.
    There. A paper trail led from his apartment to Gaby's Greenwich Village brownstone. She could find her way back to him now.
    From the corner, he looked up at her fourth-story window, saw that it was still lit. She was awake, obviously waiting for him.
    The main entrance's outer door was unlocked. Not so with the inner door. He stood there fiddling with his keychain for a couple of minutes before he remembered that she'd taken his key.
    Dammit. He'd have to climb the fire escape. On the other hand, she used to like that.
    Would that make him a stalker? He frowned over that one. Maybe he'd follow her around until she got scared and got a restraining order and he did something stupid and they made a TV-movie about him. The thought bothered him.
    He went around to the 11th Street side of the building and looked up at the fire escape. It seemed higher than usual. There was a car, actually a stretch limo, illegally parked near it, and he debated trying a jump from its roof, but decided that was impolite.
    It took him three jumps to catch the bottom of the fire escape, and a greater effort than usual to haul himself up onto its bottom level. He must have gained weight, too, because his exertion set this whole part of the world rocking just like his apartment. He lay there resting while he waited for the world to steady itself.
    Below him, three men in dressy long coats came around the corner and headed for the limo. One was an old man,