“Shit,” Hugh muttered under his breath. He raised his voice, aiming his best glare at the spectators. “All right, back inside, people! We can’t do our job with you lot breathing down our necks!”
The gawkers unwillingly retreated into their apartments. With the humans out of the way, Hugh could see the double metal doors of the elevator at the end of the hallway. It was immediately apparent what had made the ‘awful noise’—the doors were buckled outward. Hugh guessed that the falling elevator must have somehow hit them and become wedged.
Dai rapped on the distorted metal. “East Sussex Fire and Rescue! Can anyone hear me?”
“Help!”
The trapped girl sounded young. From the way her thin, panicked voice seemed to be coming from near the ceiling, the elevator was evidently stuck somewhere between this floor and the one above.
“Don’t worry. We’re going to get you out.” Dai was already prizing at the doors, without noticeable effect. “John!”
The seven-foot-tall sea dragon braced his feet, fitting his massive fingers into the twisted seam of the doors. The tendons of his neck stood out as he applied his full strength. The doors emitted an ear-splitting squeal, moving the barest fraction of an inch.
“It’ll move, but we need more leverage.” Dai’s broad shoulders bunched as he too threw his full weight against the door, forcing it open a tiny bit more. “Hugh, crowbar!”
Hugh extracted the tool from their gear, tossing it to the dragon shifter. His own hands clenched as he watched the two men strain to open the door. He hated not being able to help, but there wasn’t any room for him to add his strength as well.
“I’m going to go up to the next floor,” he said abruptly, unable to contain his burning need to do something. “Maybe I’ll be able to see something from up above.”
*Be careful,* Dai said telepathically, too out of breath for words. *Just look, and tell us what you see. Don’t take any risks.*
Since Hugh’s talents were usually best deployed on the back lines, away from the heat of danger, it was understandable that his colleagues were somewhat over-protective of him. Still, it was bloody annoying. He was a fully trained firefighter as well as a paramedic.
“I can take care of myself,” Hugh snapped, grabbing another crowbar. “Try not to sprain anything in my absence.”
He hastened to the next floor. The elevator doors here weren’t as damaged as the ones below, though they were still a little bent. Hugh worked the crowbar into the rippled gap, braced himself, and heaved.
He might not have the brute size of a dragon, but he was still a mythic shifter. The doors slid open with a screech of protest.
Hugh angled his flashlight into the dark void of the elevator shaft. The reason for the elevator’s bizarre position was clear—all but one of the main cables had snapped. A couple of the loose ends were hanging free, swinging slightly.
“What in the name of all that’s holy did that?” he muttered, staring at the dangling ends.
They looked dissolved, like acid had eaten through the thick cables. Playing his flashlight beam down the one remaining cable, he could see deep pits in its surface. Whatever had destroyed the other cables had nearly gotten this one too. He had a nasty feeling that it was only a matter of time before it gave way as well.
He panned his flashlight lower—and jumped so badly that he dropped the damn thing.
Bloody hell, was that a face?
The flashlight clanged away down the side of the shaft, but not before the wildly spinning beam of light had flashed across someone crouched on top of the elevator.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Hugh yelled, his voice echoing down the narrow shaft.
“I’ve got to rescue my sister!” From the voice, the figure was a woman, though Hugh couldn’t make out anything other than a vague impression of a short, curvy form.
“That’s our job, you idiot!” Belatedly, Hugh remembered his three rounds of remedial sensitivity training. “I mean, we have the situation fully under control. Please, leave this to us professionals.”
The woman didn’t look up from whatever she was doing. “Like hell I will!”
So much for trying to do this by the book.
“Don’t you dare make me come down there!” he yelled.
“Bite me!”
His inner unicorn stamped a hoof. She calls to us! We must go!
Personally, Hugh was not certain that ‘bite me’ qualified as an appeal for help, but there was no arguing with his unicorn’s compulsion to race to the aid of fair maidens. Or, in this case, a cranky and annoying one.