The Weeping

Robin is kidnapped…


Robin hurried through the streets. She felt as though she were chasing shadows. Just when she thought she’d lost him, she would catch a glimpse of a form here or a hint of a shape there. Then, she would give chase once more.

She skidded to a stop as a solid brick wall came into view in front of her. There was no way he had come down this alley, unless something Ackerley gave him allowed him to fly. Frowning, she turned to retrace her steps.

As she emerged from the alley she’d run down, she saw another fleeting shadow. Growling, she peered down the next side alley. There was a form, crumpled on the ground.

Drawing her sidearm, she stepped over to the figure. As she feared, it was the man she had been chasing. His short blond hair was stained and matted with blood. His brown eyes were vacant and staring.

Scowling, Robin glanced around. A few feet away, there lay a shovel. The sharp end was stained with blood. Someone had struck this man in the head with the shovel. But, why?

Sighing in frustration, Robin straightened. She tucked the little firearm into the holster hidden up her sleeve and started back the way she had come. Whomever had killed him, she wouldn’t learn anything from him now.

Robin had hardly taken more than a step before someone caught her from behind. One arm wrapped around her waist and the other tightened around her neck. For a moment, Robin kicked and struggled against her attacker.

He lifted her off the ground, ignoring her struggles, as he carried her back the way she’d come. Robin tried to scream, but she couldn’t draw enough breath to make a sound. Her vision blurred and grew darker. It drew down to a pinpoint and she felt her limbs become too heavy to move. A moment later, she was tumbling into blackness.


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