Page 98 of Kill Me Again: Psychics

Baxter kept glancing back, but Owen left a good few meters between them and didn’t close the gap. If he wanted to hurt Baxter, it was clear he wanted to talk first. Just as Baxter had surmised.

The heavy fire door at the bottom of the stairwell was closed. Baxter gave one last backward glance before pushing it open and stepping through.

As soon as he disappeared, Owen sped up. Did he think Baxter was going to vanish? Where did he think he could go? The stairs didn’t lead anywhere except to the roof.

I hurried after him, not willing to let him out of my sight—but I wasn’t fast enough.

The door swung shut.

I shoved at it, but it slammed shut with a strange metallic sound. A hard, ugly sound. Not a lock. Something worse.

When I hit the push bar, it opened a millimeter but no more. “What―?” I slammed my shoulder into it, the impact reverberating through my bones. It made no difference, apart from dust shaking loose from the frame.

I wasn’t ready to give in. Not with me on one side of the door and Baxter on the other.

Grabbing the push bar, I threw my weight against it. The bar inside scraped and settled, as if it was getting comfortable, but the door still didn’t open. I rammed it once more, pain flashing through my shoulder.

The door held. Solid. Patient. Built for heat and smoke, and things far more powerful than me.

“Open it!” I shouted, hating how desperate I sounded.

No answer.

“Baxter!”

Still nothing.

I kicked the door. Not one of my better ideas. My foot screamed in pain, while the door didn’t even pretend to care. I stepped back, breathing hard, staring at it as if it might change its mind.

It didn’t.

That was when the truth landed.

Owen had planned this. Whatever he’d jammed in the door, he had left there for this exact eventuality. He’d considered Baxter not coming alone—and he’d come up with a solution to fix that.

And we’d made it easy for him. Or at least Baxter had. I’d made my feelings about going to the roof crystal clear.

I pressed the push bar one last time, testing its resistance, feeling how absolute it was. I wasn’t getting through that door without tools.

And Owen had known that.