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He ran and leapt further that time, aiming his body for the dilapidated old building that served as guard tower and sometimes jail. Once he got close enough, Nick leapt straight up.

He caught hold of a rung on the old fire escape on the outside of the building, and hauled himself up to grab the one above it. He made it up three rungs lightning-fast, and yanked himself to the first platform, right as another projectile passed under his retreating feet.

He leapt up to the next platform, and the next. He used the railing to vault up to a fourth floor, then the fifth. After that, he decided he gotten far enough up to weaken their firing accuracy, at least with the harpoons.

Knowing it would be faster, Nick broke into a run.

He darted up the metal stairs at top speed.

The hybrids below switched weapons.

An explosion blew chunks of brick off the building on the next floor. Another explosion made a window shatter behind him.

They were shooting plasma rifles at him now.

They were also getting too fucking close.

One of them, at least, seemed to be significantly more accurate with the plasma rifles than they were with the harpoons.

Nick considered crashing through a window on the next floor to get inside the building.

He tried to calculate the pluses and minuses.

The upper part of the building looked like a fucking mess from the outside. If it was like that on the inside, it was likely condemned, and if the floors didn’t hold, he might fall through a half-dozen stories before he could stop himself.

Or the converse might be true.

Nick had no way of knowing what renovations or tech upgrades might’ve been done to any of the floors. All the exits could be locked down already. The doors and windows might be vampire-proof, or even bomb proof. They might have Midnights waiting inside, or more H.R.A. hybrids could be vaulting up the stairs, or closing off passageways to box him in. If Nick had to fight them hand to hand, or if they managed to shoot him, they’d likely have the building surrounded and locked down before he could figure out a way outside.

He didn’t want to get trapped.

Everything in Nick’s instincts told him not to let himself get trapped.

No, he decided. He couldn’t take that chance.

If Morley was right about these guys, getting caught meant the end of Nick’s life––and Morley was never an alarmist, or someone who would take the nuclear route without a good reason. Moreover, to get inside the building, Nick would have to stop for at least a few seconds. Stopping before he was out of firing range would likely be the end of him.

Nick had only one real option left.

He’d just reached the another floor; he had to be at fifteen or sixteen now.

Plasma discharges continued to slam and crack into walls and metal railings just behind him, raining brick dust and plaster, and paint and glass, but luckily after he’d already yanked himself higher on the rickety stairs.

A bolt blew off part of the stair just where his foot had been.

Another blasted a hole in the brick just where his head had been.

He sprinted faster, weaving more erratically and varying his pace to make it harder for the shooter to get a bead on him.

But now his eyes were trained to the left.

Luckily he had no need to use his eyes to run, or to think about where he placed his feet. Still, if he hadn’t been sure these H.R.A. fucks were seers before, he was now. They were damned good shots. Better than most seers.

A fuck of a lot better than any human Nick had known.

Their reflexes and accuracy gave away their race, even apart from their too-perfect bone structure, the symmetry of their bodies and faces, their heights, and the intense stillness he’d glimpsed behind their eyes.

A little higher.