From the Author
Whenever someone asks me what superpower I'd like to have, my answer is always "flying." I've had recurring dreams about soaring through the air since I was a kid, and I can't imagine anything more freeing.
Many years ago, I stood in the nosebleed seats at Jacobs Field, looking over the vast emptiness above the stands, and thought how cool it would be to just fly across to the exit instead of having to fight the crowds down the stairs and around the concourse. Soulflight was born that day.
From the Inside Flap
Excerpt
The people who would come looking for Samantha were predatory. They'd stalk, not stride or shuffle. They would see everything, be aware of everyone, but they would zero in on her. She would be able to smell their deadliness.
Even if they sent a woman, they wouldn't catch Samantha off guard. The women who came into the library were normal. Harried mothers, soft and comfortable old ladies, or young and trendy students from the high school or nearby community college. Not tall and confident and catlike. Amused about the life they were about to ruin--or take outright.
Samantha stared at the cover of the murder mystery on top of the pile in her arms. Maybe she read too much, or watched too many spy shows on TV. Maybe, if they came for her at all, they'd send someone like the teenagers she'd already dismissed as not a threat. She slid the mystery into its space and winced when a torn edge scratched her finger. She'd better tape that before it got worse. She turned to go back to the front desk. As she cleared the end of the aisle, she glanced up from the book and saw him.
He looked exactly as she'd expected. Black jeans, black T-shirt, black hair. His back was to her, and his shoulders looked powerful enough to lift a tractor. Despite his size, he moved almost sinuously across the room.
Samantha froze, hardly daring to breathe. He still wore his shades, which increased the warning signals burning up her neural pathways. His head barely turned, but she still had the impression he was taking in everything.
Stop it. He's not after you. You're paranoid. She took a deep breath but didn't move, watching as
he went directly to the desk. The assistant librarian approached him with a smile.
"How can I help you, sir?"
His voice, while pitched low, carried across the quiet room. "I'm looking for Samantha Ranger."
Sam gasped and dropped her pile of books. Before he could turn and spot her, she stepped backward so the shelves hid her from sight.
"Who?" Doreen sounded politely confused, probably assuming he was a reporter and trying to help her coworker. Sam didn't hear what happened next, because she dashed for the rear of the library and her escape route.
Thank God the building was nearly empty. Her rubber-soled shoes didn't thud as she ran down the back aisle, unlike her heart. She knew the man could run faster than she could, but maybe he hadn't heard her. Maybe Doreen would delay him just long enough. Maybe Sam had a chance.
She wouldn't count on it. She'd rehearsed this a thousand times in her mind, and even a few times in reality. Today, though, the library seemed twice as long as it did when she wasn't running for her life.
She reached the end of the aisle and leaped on top of the school desk that stood under a transom window with a broken old crank. Samantha kept the lock in good condition so it slid open easily. In a flash she tilted the window out and pulled herself up through it.
Hours in the gym and running in the park had paid off. She glanced around from behind a bush a foot taller than her. She didn't spot anyone who could be Shades' backup, but a sleek black car with no one in it sat illegally at the curb. If only she had time to slash a tire. That would slow him down.
Her hesitation was going to let him catch up instead. She left the cover of the bush, moving away from the main doors of the library. She was most vulnerable here. She couldn't see the side door without revealing herself, due to a tall brick wall at the corner that hid the library's garbage area. It stood away from the main wall of the building, and peering around it would make her visible, not to mention obvious.
She inhaled deeply and strolled down the sidewalk, resisting the urge to look over her shoulder or to the side. She crossed the alley and neared a row of trees that would hide her again. Almost there. Half a dozen more steps...
"Hey, Sam!"
Horrified, Samantha spun toward the man standing across the street, waving at her. She heard a shout behind her and whirled. Shades strode across the parking lot, alerted to her presence by the bearded, scruffy homeless man who'd called from Sam's other side.
She took off running again, every step affirming the rules she'd lived by for the past dozen years. Dress to run--leggings and sturdy shoes. Stay alert--don't get caught off guard. Be prepared, and don't build any bridges you couldn't burn.
The alley up ahead was dim, but she didn't hesitate before dashing into it. She ran to the end and leapt halfway up the wall at the back. A broken board protruded at just the right height. She grabbed it with her right hand, pulled herself up, feet scrabbling, and wrapped her left over the top of the wall. In seconds she was over.
She heard the pounding footsteps and cursing of the guy behind her. No doubt he'd be over the wall faster than she had been. But she had tricks up her sleeve.
A door to her right hung crookedly ajar. She slipped inside and felt her way up the steps. She emerged on the roof and took a second to look down into the alley. Empty. She didn't know if her pursuer had gone straight through or had spotted her door, but he was too large to get through the small opening without making the hinges squeal. So she might have lost him.
Samantha sped across the roof and rushed down the fire escape on the far side. She jumped the final distance to the ground, stumbling on the buckled macadam. Again, she heard her name shouted from across the street. She looked up and her heart gasped--her lungs were too tired to do it. It was Shades.
"Damn it!" She ran again but glanced back to glare at him. He should not have been there. He must have turned around to go back to his car when he didn't see her in the alley. She had overestimated him.
She turned a corner, glanced up and down the street, and put on a burst of speed to cross it. Her heart pounded, her lungs heaved. She couldn't get much farther, but fear of what would happen if he caught her kept her going.
Without warning, something slammed into her shoulder, knocking her off pace. She stumbled against a parked car, registering the blam that had accompanied the impact. Darkness seeped in around the edges of her vision.
Godammit. She'd been shot again. And she was about to pass out.
