Chapter Thirteen

Cat didn't like waiting, not even a little bit. It left her feeling twitchy, like her skin was itching just beneath the surface and someone was waiting to pounce.

Which, given where she was sitting, maybe someone was.

Welcome to the top floor of the Clocktower, aka the Gotham Observer's office building, where, if the gossip was to be believed, nobody got invited and possibly nobody got out alive. It was next door to the press offices where Cat worked and across town from the actual printing facilities.

The art deco era tower was a study in intimidation with its tall spires, heavy lines, and looming gargoyles on every corner. Inside, it was even darker and more forbidding, the ceilings low, the lighting dim, the trim mahogany. It created an unfriendly feel from the deathly silent hallways to the hatchet faced, elderly secretary glaring at her from behind her desk. Even the note demanding her presence for a meeting had been brusquely worded to the point of rudeness.

So much for any notion that showing a bit of initiative had been a good plan. She'd joked to Kara that the managing editor couldn't possibly know her name. Apparently she was wrong because that had definitely been her name written on the email that popped up the moment she checked her computer, as well as the note a runner hand delivered and finally her immediate superior's lips as he stepped one foot out of his office, bellowed her name, then ordered her to report to the "Boss". He'd been smirking as he did it.

Damn. That couldn't be good.

She felt her heart squeeze in her chest. She needed this job, not just for the paycheck, but because her deal with her benefactor was very straight forward on the job front. She had to stay gainfully employed. She needed the cover of at least appearing to be able to pay her bills and if she lost this her chances of finding something else were almost nil. She was barely qualified to wait tables, and journalist wasn't exactly a profession with an expanding job market. She'd been lucky as hell to get this. With a resume so thin it barely qualified as tissue paper, she had no chance of repeating the miracle.

Meanwhile, the secretary was still glaring. Fun times.

Clamping down on any urge to bounce in her seat, Cat glared back. If she was going to go down, might as well make sure she was fighting all the way.

The secretary's mouth twisted, her nose creasing into one giant, disapproving wrinkle in the middle of her face. "You can go in now," she growled without breaking eye contact.

Eyebrows bouncing toward her hairline, mouth twisted into a smirk that was all sultry confidence, Cat pushed to her feet and sauntered toward the office door. Her poise was all bullshit and bad attitude, but she'd gotten through more than one miserable event on adrenaline and pissiness. She could do it again.

The secretary did something and the door popped open with a soft click.

Throwing a wink and a saucy smile over her shoulder, Cat stepped inside. The door snapped shut in her wake with enough force to make her jump and spin toward the sound before she could stop herself. Muscles quivering, she fought a shivery desire to run and hide, the sense of being trapped clawing up her spine.

Well, that was about as subtle as a bear trap, but she could deal, she reminded herself as she took a careful step back. Taking a deep breath, she straightened her shoulders and smoothed her dress down her hips. She could do this.

Finally, she pivoted, cursing mentally as she was faced with a very dark room. She blinked rapidly to bring a barely lit world into focus. If she'd thought the halls and waiting rooms were dark, they didn't hold a candle to Barbara Gordon's office. Dim lights set in deeply recessed wall units threw a thin layer of light onto the ceiling. Other than that the only illumination bled around the sides of a computer monitor on the other side of the room. She heard clicking keys, but the monitor was large enough that she couldn't see whoever sat on the other side of it.

The low light shifted her vision, narrowing the visible spectrum until the room appeared to be cast in shades of blue and grey, but granting enough acuity that could make out the bookcases lining almost every wall and shelves stacked high with technical manuals, notebooks, and printouts. A huge, dark wood desk dominated the center of the room, while a couple of uncomfortable looking chairs sat in front of it and a large couch sat along one wall below several layers of hanging shelves.

Clearly, Barbara Gordon liked her books.

As she stared, a pale hand appeared around the edge of the monitor and gestured to the chairs with a sharply worded, "Sit."

Teeth grinding with irritation, Cat nonetheless moved to the chair in question, every step consciously sinuous and graceful. Once there, she sat, delicately crossed her legs and waited, firmly ignoring the urge to fidget or worse, start flinging insults.

She really didn't like waiting.

"Sorry for the wait," a woman finally spoke up as the monitor was pushed out of the way on a swing arm.

It pivoted into a new position with the screen partially aimed Cat's direction, revealing nothing but a simple screen saver, but forcing her eyes to adjust to the brighter light. She blinked, as the surrounding world faded into the shadows.

"Barbara Gordon."

"Cat Kyle," Cat said simply, squinting in an effort to bring the other woman into focus. There was still enough light from the monitor to slightly illuminate her face on Cat's right, throwing the other half into deep shadow and revealing pale, but strong features; high cheekbones, a sharply cut jaw, straight narrow nose, and wide eyes behind tinted glasses. She leaned forward a bit and wavy, red hair caught the light at her shoulder for a second. She looked directly at Cat, leaving her with the sense of being in a predator's sights. Maybe it was the reporter thing. That look probably got a lot of secrets out of people.

A hint of a frown creased Cat's brow as a sense of familiarity tweaked her memory. She knew that face, had seen it before.

Before Cat had a chance to muse on it, Barbara straightened her shoulders. "I'm sorry it's so dim in here, but my eyes were injured some years ago. Anything brighter is problematic."

"I'm sorry," Cat exhaled. She shifted, still trying to get a better look, but Barbara reached out and slid the monitor over a little farther, throwing herself into deeper shadow, and putting the monitor more in Cat's line of vision. The move left Cat facing the brightest light in the room. She wasn't blind, but she couldn't see much.

Barbara shrugged. "I survived." She sighed, sounding tired, then continued before Cat had a chance to respond. "I'm sure you're wondering why I wanted to see you."

To say the least. "A little."

"Your proposal to cover pop up restaurants was routed to me as well as the senior editor in your division, Hamilton Tyler. I think it's a good idea...Ham doesn't," she laid out in blunt terms, her tone serious enough to suggest that Tyler disliked more than just the idea.

Cat froze, uncertain whether to expect good news or bad. "Okay," she exhaled cautiously.

Barbara leaned back in her chair, merging so completely with the shadows that Cat tracked her more by the creaking leather of her chair than any visual cues. A slender hand swept forward, briefly catching the light as she tapped the screen and one of Cat's old articles came up. "I was just rereading the pieces you submitted when you applied for the job."

Unable to get a read on the situation, Cat remained silent and simply nodded.

"You're a good writer," Barbara said after a beat. "A little rough around the edges, but too good for Tyler's version of a style section...though I'll give you credit for making it feel relevant." She reached out and tapped the monitor again to pull up another article. "I particularly like the piece you did about encountering gorillas in Nigeria...you put the reader there, made them feel what you felt, made them feel what the gorilla felt when she was as fascinated by your child as you were by hers." She was silent a moment. "I'm curious why you traveled so much," she said, her voice rising faintly at the end in a tacit request for more information.

No avoiding the question this time. Always stick as closely to the truth as possible. "I was in antiques acquisition...nothing big, just small dealers and private clients." That was one way of putting it. She saw a flicker of shadowy movement on the other side of the desk and heard another soft creak of leather shifting. "It required a lot of travel, but gave me more time with my son." And it wasn't like she'd had any other skills. Lacking a history and a name, not even a high school diploma under her belt, she'd had very few choices and nothing but Selina's old contact list, at least at first.

"Any plans on going back to it?"

Stealing? "No," she said, then realized she'd been almost aggressive about the rejection and tried to soften the statement or at least explain. "I-my son, he's at an age where he needs stability, a chance for a more formal education to get a grounding for college." She wouldn't see Carter in her position with no choices. She forced herself to stay calm and not bolt in the face of the intense attention she could feel directed her way. "He's smart," she added, well aware she was breaking her own rules about never saying more than necessary or answering questions she hadn't been asked. "He deserves every chance to be someone...and that won't happen with some hand to mouth existence on the road."

"That's great about your son, but what about you? That must have been an exciting lifestyle. Is it something you want to go back to when he's older?"

"No," she exhaled. In the early days when she'd been all barely contained rage and righteous fury with nothing to lose, it had been easy, even fun to tease and taunt and live off the efforts of the very people who'd both created and nearly destroyed her. Then later, when Carter was young and she needed the money, the decision had been more pragmatic. It was an easy way to make good money, have time with a very special needs child, and keep moving when staying in one place felt much too dangerous. Now she felt increasingly ashamed, like maybe she was just a monster who should be caged. For the first time, she was terrified of being caught every damn time she put on the costume. "I don't want to go back to that life," she finally said very softly.

Barbara didn't say anything for a long moment, just sat silently watching Cat. "All right then," she said at last. "I have an opportunity, if you're interested..."

() () () () () ()

"...then she told me the Observer's social media presence is abysmal, and she wants to start over...spin off a new division with new people," Cat explained, sounding more excited with every word. "She even has plans for a new app that will let users have a social media presence like Facebook and Twitter, but also curate their own news interests...essentially create their own newspaper for their followers...with bonuses for writers who get more reposts." She was talking fast, happy, scared, and overwhelmed all at the same time. "She doesn't want it to be just a local resource. She wants to take it national...and if it that happens, the sky's the limit. I don't understand all the ins and out of the business end, but everyone who gets in on the ground floor will be vested..."

"That's fantastic!" Kara said happily, so thrilled for the other woman she barely knew how to contain it, and happy too to hear that Barbara was starting something new. Maybe she could finally heal. "I told you you'd be taking over soon." She laughed softly.

"God, I was sure I was going to be fired when she said Tyler didn't like my proposal," Cat gasped. "I thought that after everything I've..." She fell silent for a brief moment before whispering, "I though it was all down the tubes."

"But it's not," Kara reminded her. "In fact, it sounds like an amazing opportunity."

"It is," Cat confirmed.

"How does it feel?"

Cat was silent for a long moment. "The truth?" she asked at last.

"Yeah." Kara smiled ever so slightly.

"Kinda terrifying," Cat admitted. "But also really wonderful."

Flying high above a dark, country road in search of anything that might help track down what the Gotham Chronicle had dubbed 'The Highway Hitmen', Kara took more than a little comfort from the joy in Cat's voice. In that instant, it struck her how much she needed these moments to do this job. Alex might need dead silence so she could focus on seeing all the evils in the darkness. Kara needed to remember there was still light out there, still good things and happy people to go back to when she was done hunting evil.

Cat's voice on the phone reminded her why she was doing this-what she was protecting-and helped chase away the terror that she'd fail and arrive too late and find only victims.

"You're going to be brilliant," Kara assured her.

"I'd settle for competent."

"No settling," Kara chastised gently. "You're too good for that." She circled around, checking another dark road, both relieved and disappointed to find it empty. Fear wasn't running rampant in the city, at least not yet, but the roads on the outskirts of town were definitely quieter than usual."You can do this."

"Thank you," Cat said, her voice soft and younger sounding than usual to Kara's ears. "No one's ever..." she trailed off.

Kara desperately wanted to know more, but instinct told her it wasn't the time to ask. They both needed this conversation to be an upbeat one and Cat's tone suggested going any further down that road would be anything but. "Anytime," she whispered. Thinking they both needed a subject change, she shifted gears. "Y'know I'd love to read your old articles."

"Really?" Cat asked, sounding surprised, like she couldn't imagine anyone caring.

Kara was getting a better sense of this woman's deeply buried insecurities. "Really," Kara assured her. She did a slow turn, angling above another country road, relieved to find it was also empty of traffic. It looked like nobody wanted to be on the smaller, country roads, though midtown had looked more or less normal when she overflew the area.

"I'll see if I can find them again." Cat sounded very uncertain about the idea.

"I'd like that," Kara said seriously.

"They're really not anything special. Just anything I could sell when Carter was little. Short articles for small travel magazines mostly."

"I'd still really like to read them." Increasingly, Kara found she wanted to know everything about this woman. The things she'd already read had given her a bit of insight and she was hungry for more.

"If you really—"

"I do."

"I'll see what I can dig up." Kara heard Cat draw in a breath and could almost imagine her fidgeting nervously. "And on that note, I should probably head for bed..."

"Same here," Kara sighed. Much as she was enjoying herself, she knew Alex would be chomping at the bit. She just barely tolerated Kara's need for what regarded as teenage gossip sessions. Push it too long and Kara was comfortably certain she could expect her sister to start buzzing for attention and getting grumpier with every passing minute.

And a grumpy Alex did nothing to help the situation.

"But before I do," Cat continued, "I wanted to ask if I could take you out to dinner tomorrow night? While the programmers are building the software, Barbara wants me to start stockpiling articles on local businesses. Thought maybe I could start with this little place Carter and I found...serves the most amazing Thai food. It's near the river walk on Cobblepot Avenue. We'd love to have you join us. My treat...or rather, my new expense account's treat." She paused for a tiny beat. "I have permission, by the way, to take Carter and a guest."

"Sounds like fun."

They hashed out a plan for Kara to show up at Cat's, then ride together to dinner, said their goodbyes and hung up.

After she broke the connection, Kara peered at her phone for a long moment, a glazed look in her eyes, mouth curved into a happy smile. Finally, she tucked it back in its compartment on her belt. She was just reaching for the control to the comm signal when the device buzzed for her attention. She flipped it on.

"Okay, Princess Charming," Alex began unceremoniously, "time to send Cinderella home and worry about keeping the kingdom running smoothly."

"I already hung up."

"Okay, then unless you plan to just float there all night, time to get back to work."

"I thought I'd check out Bristol Estates."

"Actually, I want you to head toward Arkham Road. I'm seeing some odd traffic patterns out there."

Kara felt her pulse accelerate. "Arkham Asylum?" she whispered. The mental facility was well out of town and housed the most psychotic and violent of criminals. There had been no breakouts since Wayne Corp bought the place and instituted modern standards of both care and security, but they'd been common in the years before and there were still attempts now and then.

"I wouldn't bet against it," Alex admitted.

Kara turned north and accelerated.

()()()()()()()

Sitting under an animated neon sign from the fifties featuring a woman showing off a diamond ring, Cat peered at her phone screen for several extra seconds after breaking the connection. Finally, she tucked it away on her belt and looked up, tracking the pulsing of the neon for a brief second. Despite being brightly lit, she wasn't worried about being seen where she crouched on the roof of King Street Vintage Jewelers. Tucked under the sign's supports, she was confident that anyone looking her direction would only see flashing neon.

"Back to work," she reminded herself, but didn't rise.

Once upon a time she would have been proud of herself for casing a target under the guise of writing an article about her victim-to-be. Once upon a time she wouldn't have noticed the victim-to-be was trying to hold onto something his parents and grandparents before that had built by the sweat of their brow. She wouldn't have been nauseous with guilt or shaking in the knees.

Then again, once upon a time her victims weren't aging, slightly frail men who lived above inherited jewelry shops that had been built in the thirties, popular in the sixties and hadn't been truly profitable since the eighties. Now it looked as worn as the rest of the neighborhood and the stock inside consisted mostly of antique and vintage items valuable more for being unique or interesting than for any gems or metals used in their crafting.

The owner, one Jacob Schreier, lived in a small apartment above the shop with his newly legally wed husband and a completely inadequate security system that relied primarily on good wifi and a lack of much worth stealing.

Sadly, Jacob's wifi was awful and he had something she needed. He also hadn't invested in any monitors for the third floor attic windows. No one had broken in that way in the store's lifetime, so he'd thought it a waste of money. She shook her head almost sadly. Not the first time that sort of logic had made her job easy.

Cat pulled the hood on her costume up, carefully settling the ears. They spread the mesh away from the sides of her head, giving her the freedom to monitor the sounds on all sides. That done, she slipped her goggles into place and dropped off the roof to a narrow ledge. She popped the vintage window lock and was inside in under a minute.

She moved quickly through the attic, pausing above the bedroom and crouching down, listening carefully at the vent. Silent. Even the TV was off now.

Good. With luck, she'd be into the jeweler's safe—a hopelessly out of date model she was confident she could open in minutes—and out just as quickly, and this night could be over.

She moved fast, feet light on the stairs, seeing easily in the darkness. The access panel she needed was in the hallway, and in moments she was in a dusty, narrow crawlspace, allowing her to deal with the security system by avoiding it. There was a camera in the shop, but if she timed it right, she could avoid being seen if she was careful to time her drop right as it swept back and forth. Once she landed behind the counter, she could stay low and still unlock the safe, grab what she needed and go back out the way she came in.

At least, that was the plan.

She was in the crawlspace above the ground floor, balanced neatly on the pipes above the suspended ceiling when she heard the sound of shattering glass.

Oh hell.

Rough voices followed along with the thud of heavy boots and the bark of ugly laughter.

That wasn't good. Easing an acoustic tile aside, she peered down through the crack.

Three men, all big, all wearing what looked like motorcycle leathers. Every instinct told her they were there to rob the place, and they weren't wearing masks because they had no intention of letting anyone they met live.

She glanced at the ceiling, willing the pair sleeping above to remain sleeping, or if not, to simply lock up and dial 911.

Then she heard a much softer pad of feet above her, then on the stairs.

"Don't," Cat hissed as if she could stop what she felt happening through sheer force of will, but the softer steps drew closer.

And the stomping boots turned.

They'd heard him.

"Run." He wouldn't, of course. He'd stand there, like people always did, shock and denial keeping him in place until it was too late.

She could undoubtedly pound the invaders to a pulp, but she was supposed to stay out of any conflicts and not be seen by civilians. She'd been warned it was dealbreaker. Raise a hand and it was all over. Hell, she hadn't even admitted to the dustup with Batgirl for fear of being hung out to dry. She needed this chance, needed the promised future, the fresh start.

Needed to be able to build a life for Carter.

Meanwhile, Jacob was a good man, kinder than most from what she'd seen, but he wasn't a big man, and he was soft.

He wouldn't take being hit well.

She flinched, her whole body rattling when she heard the first slapping thud and his low, panicked cry.

"You just open the safe," the voice was deep and thick with threat. "And we let you go."

He was lying. Jacob was dead the moment they had what they wanted and it would be a miracle if his husband—probably still sound asleep in bed—wasn't as well.

Cat caught a glimpse as the thieves dragged their prisoner toward the safe and muscles rippled up and down her arms. She ducked her head, teeth gritted with fury. Don't do it, she reminded herself. Don't lose everything for a man you don't know or have any reason to give a damn about.

()()()()()()()()

As he stumbled along, pushed and prodded, ugly taunts thrown at him, Jacob never stopped thinking. They kept promising to let him live if he just did as told, but he wasn't a foolish man. He knew he wasn't likely to survive the night, and giving these men what they wanted wouldn't change that, in fact, might just accelerate it. He'd seen their faces, recognized one as a local bully boy who liked to hang out in the bar on the corner. He wouldn't want a witness, and even if he didn't care, he and his buddies weren't the kind who let people live, particularly when they didn't get what they wanted, and he didn't have the kind of gems they were already laughing about living high on. He hadn't had a diamond bigger than a quarter carat in stock in years.

Which left him playing for time, trying to get to the silent alarm switch behind the counters. The police weren't great to respond, but it was his best hope.

He figured that unless the cops got there, he had a few minutes to live at best.

But goddammit, he wanted every one of those minutes, and more importantly, he wanted to make sure these men didn't find Brian sleeping upstairs, which they were sure to do if they killed him. They'd toss the place looking of value then.

He stumbled as they shoved him behind the counter and went down hard, the air knocked from his lungs, his knees agony where they hit the tile floor. Even so, as he fell, he stretched his arm in hopes of hitting the alarm switch.

He was still inches short.

A boot slammed into his thigh hard enough that he couldn't think for a moment, certainly couldn't move even with a snarled order ringing in his ears.

"Get up, you stupid bastard...unlock the safe and we're outa here."

"...trying..." Jacob grunted as he got his hands under him to push up to his knees.

A hard kick to the ribs slammed him sideways into the cabinet and he tumbled back to the floor, landing on his back, the thug's laughter echoing around him. They were all looming over him, the one smirking, while the other two looked annoyed.

One arm braced across his bruised ribs, Jacob scooted back a little, eyes going wide as a bit of movement behind his assailants drew his gaze. He blinked and whatever he'd seen faded into the shadows or maybe just been imagined. He really didn't know.

"Quit screwin' around," one of the thieves, a giant of a man with dirty blond hair and a slash of a mouth permanently twisted into a sneer, ordered and slammed a hand into his attacker's shoulder.

"Fuck you! You ain't my boss," his attacker shot back and hurled another kick.

Jacob couldn't quite contain a scream as a boot slammed into his ribs, but he somehow used the momentum to scramble closer to the silent alarm switch.

"Dammit, Lenny, stop that. You're gonna kill him too soon."

Even knowing he shouldn't look back, Jacob twisted to stare at them.

"Shit, you're such an asshole, Lou. Now he knows."

Jacob barely heard them, his full attention on the figure that emerged from the shadows overhead. Long, sleek and lean, it flowed downward behind his assailants and dropped to the floor without making so much as a whisper of sound.

It reminded him of one of the alien movies when the creature slid out behind its victim, barely visible and eerily graceful.

And as he saw her head tip to one side like a cat he'd had once who was the terror of the neighborhood birds, he knew that he might not survive, but they wouldn't either. In that moment, he threw himself away from his attackers, reached for the switch, then pulled himself into a tight fetal curl in hopes of surviving the boots he fully expected to start hammering his ribs.

()()()()()()()()

Cat straightened from a crouch, a low growl bubbling up from her throat as one of the men stepped toward Jacob. They hadn't noticed her yet, but that was about to change.

She leapt, body rolling the moment she was airborne. In full flight, she smashed a fist down into the nearest one's head as she flew by, then raked another's shoulder with steel tipped claws, using him as the pivot point to roll on over.

She dropped to a half crouch, landing light as a feather between Jacob and his attackers.

"What..."

"The..."

"Fuck!" the three exhaled in order.

Apparently it required all three of them to make one complete brain, Cat decided. She wondered if they'd all hurt at the same time. She swung, raking Jacob's lead assailant with steel tipped claws, then punched with her other hand as pain bent him double. He staggered, but didn't go all the way down.

The other three were still standing tall, or at least in the same slouched positions, so apparently they didn't share a central nervous system. Pity.

Then she jumped, using the nearest one's back as a springboard to gain momentum to dive over the middle one, taking aim on the man in the rear. She tackled him, tumbling him away from the others, then rolling free and using momentum to regain her feet when she'd knocked him several yards back.

Groaning and in a daze, he started to push upright with one hand and reached for the gun in his waistband with the other. Before he could get any farther, she delivered a sweeping roundhouse kick that crashed into his temple and slammed him into a nearby wall hard enough to leave a dent.

He toppled to the floor and didn't move.

"Gonna die bitch," the uninjured on in the middle one growled, while his buddy spun, expression twisted with agony, forearm braced across his bleeding midsection.

He nodded, and tried unsuccessfully to straighten.

"Doubtful," Cat drawled, her voice low and sultry. No killing, she reminded herself. Hopefully sticking to that rule would earn her some forgiveness for breaking the one about not being seen. She allowed herself the luxury of a tiny, mocking laugh, feeling confident and righteous about the costume for the first time in ages.

The remaining thieves shared a look, silently brokering some kind of agreement. To their credit, they clearly understood the need to attack as a united front. They just weren't very good at it.

They rushed forward together and Cat ducked a wild swing, then sidestepped and slapped her first would-attacker on the ass, sending him sprawling. The other one tried to use that momentary distraction against her, but she dodged his swing then hit back with a flurry of slaps and rabbit punches that did little damage, but knocked him back several steps.

Growling in fury, he cocked his fist back and slung a punch, clearly throwing all of his strength into the blow.

Cat caught his fist in one hand, grinning as he realized she'd stopped his hardest blow without a flinch. He was still staring in shock when she twisted sharply to a satisfying accompaniment of snapping bone and a human scream. His knees buckled and she punched on a downward arc, slamming her fist into his temple to finish the job.

He collapsed and she slung him away with enough force to send him skidding across the floor until he ran into his unconscious heap of his friend.

Cat pivoted, eyes going to the third one.

He was back on his feet, but visibly staggering. "What the fuck are you?" he gasped as he stumbled backward, his eyes wide and scared.

It was the wrong thing to say. Three long strides and she was on him, one hand thrust forward. She straight-armed him into the nearest wall, a savage grin curving full lips as he hit with a solid thud.

He was still conscious when she grabbed his collar to keep him upright and leaned close.

"What I am," she snarled just loudly enough to make herself heard, "is human."

His eyes went wide and she smiled as she smelled the fear on him. Then she pulled him back and slammed him into the wall again.

This time he went limp. Good plan.

She tossed him over with his friends, careless of how much damage his landing might inflict.

In all, no more than a few seconds had passed.

She turned toward the jewelry counters, empty for the night. She didn't see Jacob, but she could hear him moving, and smell his terror. "I won't hurt you," she called, careful to keep the words pitched low and as different from her natural voice as possible. She strode forward, stepping behind the counter on light feet. "But I need something from your safe." She spotted him where he was cowering in the shadow of a cupboard, trying desperately not to be seen.

She knew the feeling.

He was shaking so badly she doubted he could unlock the safe at that point.

Once upon a time she would have terrorized the poor bastard to keep him silent. One more thing she couldn't do anymore. "It's one item, a stone called the Icelandic Sea. It's not worth much, and once I have it, I'll go and I will never come back...and I promise I won't hurt you or anyone else in your home...ever."

He blinked, staring at her in disbelief. "Catwoman," he said very softly, then swallowed hard like he'd just announced his own doom.

Her head canted to one side, she frowned. She didn't think she'd ever stolen from this place...maybe Selena?

"Every gem dealer and jeweler in this city knows you," he explained in the face of her confusion. "They won't be happy to hear you're back."

She shrugged and crouched down, putting herself on his level. "Did they hurt you?" she asked, ignoring his statement.

He shrugged. "Maybe cracked a rib." Gritting his teeth, he tried to push to his feet, but cried out and slid back to the floor.

"Stay down," she told him, then glanced at the safe. "I can probably get into that thing as fast as you can." She peered over her shoulder, checking on his attackers. One of them stirred ever so slightly and let out a low moan. "You have anything I can tie them with?"

It was his turn to look confused.

"So they can't hurt you when I leave," she clarified. When he still didn't answer, she looked around for something with an electrical cord she could swipe.

"Top shelf in the cabinet on the right," he suddenly said. "Zip ties."

"That'll do." She found them quickly and grabbed a handful. A couple of minutes effort and the three thugs were nicely tied up despite any efforts made to resist as they regained consciousness.

"Bitch," one of them grumbled dazedly.

She patted his cheek and offered a wry smile. "Right back at you." Her smile took on a hungry, wolfish quality. "And if you say another word, I'm going to hurt you. Nod if you understand."

He nodded.

"And if you ever hurt this man, or anyone he cares for, I will kill you." She flashed a toothy smile, then instructed, "Nod again."

Another nod.

"Good boy." She delivered another pat to his cheek, hard enough this time to knock his head painfully to one side. She'd changed, but maybe not that much. Then Cat was moving, bounding across the room and vaulting the counter. She landed in front of the safe, making barely a sound as her feet hit the floor. A quick glance confirmed that Jacob was still where she'd left him.

Good. She had no intention of hurting him or even frightening him any more than necessary, but that would be easier if he stayed put.

Focusing on the safe again, she leaned closer and spun the dial, listening to the soft rumble and click of the tumblers and getting a feel for the action with sensitive fingers. It took her three tries, but finally she heard and felt the last pin drop into place. A quick twist of the lever and it swung open. She pulled the top tray out, searching quickly before pushing it back with a soft, frustrated curse.

"Fifth tray down...rear left side," Jacob spoke up suddenly. He sounded in paid, but not so scared. "Then you need to go."

She glanced over, head tipped to one side, lips pursed into a frown.

He looked almost ashamed. "I hit the silent alarm while you were fighting."

As if to punctuate the admission, she heard a police siren somewhere in the distance, then another coming in from another angle.

Spinning back to the safe, she quickly found what she wanted and shoved it in a pouch on her belt, then hurried back to Jacob. She saw him flinch, ready to panic. She crouched well back, one hand up in a calming gesture. "I told you," she repeated, still using that same, soft, low pitched tone, "I won't hurt you...but I'm asking you not to tell them what I'm taking." She was under no illusions that asking him to keep his mouth shut about her was going to happen. "I promise, I won't come back, I won't hurt you, no matter what you do, so this isn't a threat...just a request."

He just stared, afraid and hurting and confused by how she was acting.

Meanwhile, the sirens were getting closer, and she thought maybe she heard a helicopter as well. "I have to go now."

He stared up at her. "Why?" he whispered as she stepped away.

She knew he was asking a deeper question by his tone. She pivoted back, mouth momentarily working silently before she finally whispered, "I had to change." Then she broke. Finally giving way to instinct, she fled, hitting the stairs at a dead run and hitting the first landing in a single leap. She rounded the corner and hit the second in another jump. Two leaps down the hallway and she hung a right into the bedroom where she took long enough to shake the sleeping man's shoulder with a barked order, "Your husband needs you downstairs!" before taking a bounding leap at the narrow window that overlooked the alley in the back.

Old and brittle, the glass gave way easily, barely even slowing her down as she grabbed the windowframe and twisted around, kicking off on the sill at the same time she clawed her way upward.

She hit the roof and bounced, leaping high and not coming down again until she hit the next building over. She heard the sound of sirens bearing down and saw red and blue lights reflected on every surface, but none of it could touch her and she never slowed down.

Whatever happened now, she knew she'd done the right thing, and if there was hell to pay, at least she could live with herself.

For the first time in a long time, she was just a little freer than she had been before.

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