Chapter Fifty

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Something overhead obstructed my escape.

Gripping either side of what appeared to be an access opening, I heaved myself up and through. What was this encircling structure? Scaffolding? The platform was only three feet wide and hugged the stack's elegant golden throat like a hideous piece of costume jewelry. I shielded my transformed eyes against a spotlight clipped to the platform's railing.

Somebody was working here just minutes ago, I realized with a start, my eyes finally adjusted enough to take in the abandoned tools: sandblasting equipment. The worker must have gotten down because of the approaching inclement weather. I stepped up to the massive curve of towering gold to peer closely at the lines between the individual bricks. No cement.

Bothered by this, I leaned back. No cement for almost a six-foot by six-foot section. There were only gaps between the surface brick, leaving the secondary concrete block behind that exposed, and I placed a hand against it. I have seen this sort of thing before.

Pushing fingertips into the gaps, my other hand hanging idle at my side tingled, my mother's remembered hand slipping into it. I was suddenly taken back, squinting against a bright yellow sun thirteen years earlier, standing on a street in San Francisco. A hint of her peach essence stirred my taste buds as I looked up at the building I had stopped in mid-sidewalk to stare at. There were gaps between the bricks and sand on the sidewalk. The sand sounded dry beneath my tiny, purple sandals. There was a group of burly men surrounded by yellow tape with black lettering that read: Work Area.

Dark hair fluttered in the sunlight above me, and her rich chocolate eyes crinkled with adoration at my concerned expression when I asked, "Momma, what are they doing to the building? Why are they hurting it?"

"They're not hurting the building, honey. They are 'repointing' the masonry work," I said softly, in sync with my mother's remembered words. I was back in the present moment, thirty- some feet above ground.

Look, see here? Ignoring the glares of the workers on break, she had boldly pulled back the yellow tape and led me over to place my small hand on the gaps between the bricks. Those men in the yellow hardhats are wearing away at the cement with their tools because it is old and the wall is weak. They will mix up new cement and fill in the gaps.

"Then the cement will dry and make the weak structure strong again—oh no." I yanked my hand away from the brick and peered over the railing.

With my eyes focused in spectral sight, I watched a gust of wind brush the ground to leave traces of light, comparable to striking a match. The great ghost bears were gathering en masse at the base. Super. I was surrounded by a mosh pit of atrophy rubbing against brick with mortar aged past its expiration date. A cat chased up a weakened tree. My gaze went to the spot where the cement was sandblasted away. And somebody had gone and chopped a gap in its trunk.

Eyes going wide, I yipped in surprise when one ghost bear took a leap for me. Its great snout passed through the platform floor so all I could momentarily see was a flash of teeth lining a sulfurous red light between my feet. Spinning around, I grabbed hold of a metal rung and climbed.

Of course they can make a thirty-foot jump, I grumbled as the metal ladder rang softly while my feet pounded against it. What's a little thirty-foot jump? It probably hadn't even been trying.

I was almost halfway up the smokestack when I stopped climbing, the wind's friction this far up a faint blue light that buffeted my pure white glow. I clenched my teeth and gazed at the ground such a dizzying distance below. I had been thinking over my situation with Micah and Alex, and dredging up old memories of Mom's manic episodes, when my aura became visible again.

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