Sunfail Read Online Free Page B

from rooftop to rooftop like some kind of parkour freak. A skilled shooter with a decent sniper rifle could take out a target from a mile away with the high ground—even maintain a good hit probability from a mile and a half. She was a sitting duck down there in the wide street. Sophie resisted the urge to check for a red dot in the middle of her chest. If it was there, then it was too late do anything about it. Fatalistic, but 100 percent accurate.
    She couldn’t see anyone up there. That didn’t mean they weren’t there; the angles made it easy to hide. There was no telltale glint of sunlight on the sight to give them away. All she could do was keep moving.
    Breathing slowly and steadily Sophie continued down the avenue. She had a finite time out here. She knew that. Her pursuer would grow tired of the game sooner rather than later and, if he was good, pick his moment to move in for the kill. She had to assume he was good. Better than her. That was the only way to stay alive. Underestimating the enemy was a good way to die young.
    She needed to get off the street.
    She scanned the rows of buildings and doorways as she moved, thinking how much easier it would have been a week ago to just jack one of the parked cars. It wasn’t an option now. Even if she could get one of the engines started she couldn’t move fast enough. The city was jammed hood to tail to hood. Any sudden moves would only escalate the problem faster than she wanted. She was already in enough trouble. She didn’t need the gendarmerie hunting her as well; The Hidden’s killers were more than enough to contend with.
    She kept looking for another out.
    A couple of minutes later, a possible solution moved toward her: a small gang of students, male and female, all walking together, all chatting loudly and gesturing wildly. Deep in conversation, laughing, arguing, with all the passion of youth trying to one-up each other as they impressed their way into whichever pair of pants it was they had their eyes on. A couple carried small canvases and sketchbooks. They were budding Space Invaders and Zevs or whoever the new cool street artist du jour happened to be, on their way down to Montmartre. They took up the entire sidewalk—and were heading right for her.
    She could use them.
    Through the trees and buildings opposite her, Sophie noticed a brightly lit lantern beside an open doorway, the stairs down into the metro barely visible beyond the threshold.
    Again, she could use them.
    All she had to do was put the two together and she had the makings of a plan.
    Keep it simple , she thought, and stumbled, deliberately colliding with one of the boys. She hit him with the force of a linebacker slamming into a test dummy and the pair of them hit the ground in a tangle of limbs. It wasn’t graceful, but it was effective. The others reached down, trying to help them as Sophie waved them off and pulled herself to her feet.
    “Je suis bien,” she said, straightening her clothes. A small crowd had already gathered, drawn by the commotion. Sophie needed to judge the moment carefully. As she turned, she deliberately knocked one of the student’s sketchbooks with her hip. The artist’s block was overflowing with loose sketches. As it fell out of the girl’s hands, it opened and the loose leaves of paper teased up, flew into the air, and blew across the sidewalk.
    “ Mes dessins !” The sketchbook’s owner—short, average height, average weight, messy red-brown hair—scrambled about, trying desperately to rescue the pages before they were ruined. Her friends forgot all about Sophie and joined in the rush to gather up the pages.
    Sophie ducked out of the group, careful to turn toward the metro entrance. She could only hope her watcher was having trouble following her through the chaos she’d just conjured. If luck was on her side, the students had blocked his view completely. If it wasn’t she’d know soon enough.
    She broke into a run, head down, arms and legs