He seemed harmless enough. A lone man wandering down the centre of the street, rain bouncing off the brim of his hat. She sent out her senses but they came back blank, just as they had before. He was a shell, nothing burning inside of him. No ghost in the machine.

He had something though. It wasn’t easy to stop a hunter like he had, leave it stunned in the street, flat on its back staring open eyed at the rain. Cass had found it hours later, still twitching, and allowed her blade to finish the job. Not everyone could stop a hunter, especially a vampire. They were quick and hungry, not to be taken lightly.

So neither was he. Let the man pass, watch and wait.

She watched him stride past, head down, mouth moving as he chattered away to himself. She tried to sense what it was he said but it was hopeless. He wasn’t projecting it out there for anyone to hear.

One stride later he stopped and peered into the darkness of her alley, directly at her. Cass tensed, ready to spring up the walls and away. The next moment, however, he turned away again and resumed his walk.

He had the sense, maybe not as tuned as Cass, but it was there. Instinct. Keep your distance.

The laneway was barely three feet wide, and as the lone man wandered on Cass began to climb, pushing her arms out against each wall to brace herself, scampering up the stories till she reached the rooftop, then curling her body over its edge to lie still on the rooftop, waiting for him. She couldn’t place him with her senses. He was smudged out, coloured over with the usual hum from the outside world.

There he was, still wandering down the centre of the street. No traffic to worry about out here.

He had to be a cop. Someone from inside the Grid, sent out to investigate the crash. She’d heard rumours of them. Quarters had told her about them in hushed tones, silent, dangerous enemies. No signature, no readable identity, no purpose. Tools of the Grid.

They were used to mop up problems before they reached the Grid itself. Take someone out, put something down. Even the Hunters avoided them. But they usually came in packs, at least, so she’d been told. Always with a partner, never alone.

Cass sprung to her feet and padded silently across the rooftop, hardly making contact with the tiled surface as she sprinted across it. A leap and she was on the next rooftop, leaning back against the chimney stack, waiting for the man to wander back across her field of vision.

So why was he alone? Was that why the hunters hadn’t recognised him, hadn’t given him the wide berth they normally would have? Or were they not after him at all?

Who was using who as the bait?

Cass looked down and found the blade in her hand again. It was hungry, it was always hungry now. She could feel it in her guts. What did it matter who the prey was? A turn of the wrist and she gazed at the letters stencilled into the base of its handle. That was why she was here, that was what she had to find. Madigan’s. The clone had said they were expecting her.

She wrenched herself away from the figure and padded silently back in the direction he’d come from. She could feel her destination, she didn’t need him to lead her there.

Her heart was pumping, not from exertion, but from something more. Excitement, but not from a kill. There was no aluminium tinge of blood and guilt, no feeling of loss of control. This was something more. This was why she was here, this was her goal. She had found her purpose.