M.L. Boyd
 
 Click here for part one of "The Shadow Thief"

... I went back to my study cubicle.

The girl in front of me was gone. Throwing the book down, I snatched up my bag and thundered towards the door. Surveillance, Shannon, you were here for surveillance. Hurtling down the stairs, I glanced out the window and caught a glimpse of perfectly curled brown hair of bouncing down the brick path under a black umbrella. I had little time. If I didn’t catch up with her quick, she’d get lost in the twisting halls and corridors of the old mansion.

My bag, it seems, had other ideas and wanted to make friends with the railing. Lovely day when the most fascinating thing you discover is the ringing sound your head makes when it connects with a hollow metal stair rail. Bonus: when a cute guy helps you untangle yourself from the half-nelson your bag has you in. Gee, thanks! Like the huge red welt on my head? I worked really hard on it. You have gorgeous eyes.

It’s okay, though. I love migraines. The aura makes the rain more interesting. Oh, and the black umbrella? Definitely made Perfect Hair Girl stand out in a crowd. I wanted to shoot myself.

Rain-soaked, I hurried toward the old mansion. And waited. I could hear the seconds grinding by as the metal and glass automatic doors inched open bit by bit. Once I squeezed through, I was tempted to run, but I needed to look casual. So, I settled for a fast-paced walk. Bad idea. The terracotta tiles turned the hall into a skating rink. Two seconds later, I was flat on my butt, and staring up at the same gorgeous pale blue eyes.

“Maybe I should stick around incase you need help again.” Gorgeous Eyes had a melodic baritone voice and a dazzling smile.

I shot off a quick, “Uh, thanks… gotta run!” way too loud. And I’m pretty sure everything came out in Neanderthal speak, “Uh, thu-uh… gog-ruh!” Smooth.

I bolted toward the end of the hallway. I felt like a gnome was whacking the inside of my head with a chisel as I sprinted up the stairs. This place was three floors high and had no sense of order to the stairs and halls. My only hope was to work from back to front. Rear exits first, top floor next, bottom floor and lower exits last. And I had to do it without looking conspicuous.

Opening the rear doors on the second floor, I stared out onto the battered flagstone that led to the back pathways and scanned the paths for anyone who might look remotely like the girl with the perfect curls. Hypnotized by the downpour, I wracked my brain for a decent excuse. “I lost my cell phone.” Uncreative. “I’m looking for a friend.” Uncreative and cliché. Right now, “My hamster ran away,” sounded like a more believable excuse. I turned around and slammed right into gorgeous-eyed-melodic-voiced-dazzling-smile-guy.
 


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