The sky over London was never clear. The pollution, thick and heavy-lying, turned the sky dark brown, the moon a cloudy smudge of white. But it could make for a glorious sunrise, spears of red and purple staining the Eastern horizon.
Shana, from her rooftop, would have had a great view had she had the time to watch. She scanned around, already the wolf had finished its snack and was continuing its assault on the door, which chimed and rattled from below like stage thunder. She didn't want to imagine the dents the wolf was making. At any moment the door might break down, but as long as she could hear the sound she was safe. When all went quiet, that would be the time to really start to worry.
Which will come first? she thought. The sun or the wolf. Oh god, I fucking hate this. What to do? What to do? Think Shana, shit you haven't got long!
The rooftop was a flat plain, once white now speckled gray and black with dirt and bird-shit. Feathers and leaves lay in drifts against the shallow lip that rose up about a foot at its edges. Shana nudged the decomposing corpse of a mouse with the toe of her boot. None of this crap would help.
Over the door, that was the only place to be, sitting on the platform above it, gun loaded and aimed at where the werewolf's head would appear. She wished the gun was bigger. She wished she had a grenade. A huge fucking missile. Or at the very least something goddamn heavy to whack it with when it was injured, momentarily stunned by the bullets. She still couldn't believe it wasn't already dead. It had taken enough punishment to put five normal werewolves out of the picture permanently.
Hey there's a bright side, she thought. All the others after this will be like a walk in the park.
If I survive.
She looked around her one last time, and because there was nothing else, took up an armful of feathers and crud from the roof. Chucking it in the wolf's face might not buy her much time, but now even seconds mattered. Every second was a second nearer dawn.
Before she could get into position it went quiet. Shana tried not to panic, years of training was all that stopped her from running round screaming like a pathetic coward. She was screaming though inside her own head as she scrambled up above the door, gaining two nice new bruises on her shins and a grazed thumb.
She sat quietly, poised.
Any moment now...