Sea Haven 02 - Spirit Bound

the bar, but there were no footsteps running over the rooftops. Another vicious cut of the wind whipped through his clothes. He ignored it all, his mind fully on his prey.
    Stefan proceeded much more cautiously. Ivanov could be waiting anywhere just ahead to ambush him. He eased down the descending slope leading toward the next building, examining that rooftop, quartering every section with extreme care. He crouched down and touched two small spots on the tile, lifting his fingers to his nose. Blood. He was leaking a few drops, but this was definitely Petr Ivanov’s blood. He let out his breath slowly. Chasing a wounded Ivanov was much like pursuing a wounded Grizzly, but he had no real choice. If Lev was to be safeguarded, Ivanov had to die.
    The spots were in a diagonal pattern, leading across the roof, not straight to the next one. Ivanov could not possibly have made it over the peak before Stefan had done so on the hotel’s roof without Stefan catching sight of him. That meant one thing . . .
    Stefan examined the layout of the hotel roof. Toward the front of the building, a jutted outcropping overhung a small balcony, which several other rooms on the third floor had. If Ivanov had slipped into one of the rooms and back out on the other side, he could be anywhere, even coming up behind him. The urge to pursue was great, but self-preservation lent him caution.
    He hunkered down again, studying the three windows. If he had been the one considering that he might be chased across the rooftops, he would rent the corner room, leave the window open and slide in, close it and go out through the downstairs and mix with the people, or go back out the window in the front and access the roof to come in behind any pursuer.
    Swearing under his breath, Stefan crept back toward the peak of the roof, avoiding that beckoning balcony and the front of the building. He searched the street below. The wine shop was still filled to capacity but the street itself was empty and dark. Two kids made out behind the restrooms across the street, and Old Bill the homeless man moved restlessly in his small alcove between buildings, but otherwise no one moved.
    Keeping low, he inched his way down the steep roof to peer onto the building between the hotel and bar. A flitting shadow moved, so small, at first Stefan thought it might be a cat, but he took a chance, suddenly running down the side to leap onto the building. The shadow stretched as it crossed to the bar, racing around to the front where the broken sign helped to hide the fleeing assassin.
    Stefan jumped, flinging his body down onto the flat deck just above the bar, driving Ivanov to the floor. He hit hard, the distance a little too long, the angle steep, forcing the air from his lungs. He heard an ominous crack and Ivanov’s breath rushed out in a hiss of pain even as Ivanov gripped his knife hand.
    They rolled over and over, crashing into the broken sign, the metal and glass cutting into Stefan’s back and shoulder, both men fighting to keep blades from piercing their bodies. They fought silently, fiercely, a ferocious life-or-death battle between two highly skilled warriors. Breaking apart, they both scrambled to their feet and circled each other in that same silence.
    Stefan was a man of few words. He didn’t need to bolster his courage with a lot of threats. His enemy’s breath was slow and measured, but accompanied by a hiss of pain with each inhale, indicting a bone had fractured or actually broken. Ivanov was a deadly enemy, fast and skilled. One misstep and he was dead. The assassin didn’t get angry, he simply killed. Three times his blade slashed across Stefan’s wrist and forearm. The exterminator was marked up as well.
    The sound of laughter spilled out of the wine shop, suddenly much louder. Ivanov rushed him, slapping his blade aside, forcing Stefan to catch the man’s wrist. At the last moment he realized the assassin’s intention, but it was too late. The momentum carried them both over the low railing so that they fell to the sidewalk below. Stefan landed under Ivanov, holding grimly to his wrist to prevent him from whipping the blade across his throat.
    For a moment, Stefan couldn’t move, almost paralyzed, desperate for air, his lungs burning, his body barely registering pain as it dispersed along every nerve ending. Ivanov slammed so hard into him, the force drove his body back into the sidewalk a second time, so that the world faded a little around the