She was done; she was out of here. Ryan could look after himself anyways. He was a grown man. She had too much money for this place. She didn't have to stay here, where any of her neighbors could be the one leaving her messages or following her on the street at night. It wasn't that she was scared. It just wasn't worth it anymore. There was a whole world out there. There were an infinite number of places she could live. She would move to London. London had numerous art museums and excellent current artists as well. And the people speak English there. France and Italy had enough art, but she would have to learn a whole new language to create a new life there. She would miss Ollie, she really would. She hadn't yet asked him to come with her, but she was sure he wouldn't want to just pick up and leave. Actually, she hadn't even told him she was leaving. He would probably be upset, especially since her flight would leave in only a week. Oh, well, he could come with her or not. She was as good as gone. What had happened was this: Last night she had made the mistake of taking the stairs to her apartment. She had heard the footsteps behind her when she was on the 8th floor. Despite herself she had sped up, pulling out her keys ans almost jogging up the last few floors. As the stairwell door shut behind her, she thought she heard someone say her name. She was in her apartment in less than a minute with the door shut firmly behind her. She leaned against it, breathing hard and looked around her dark apartment. No one. She felt the envelope against the back of her heel as it was shoved under the door. She spun around and looked out of the peep hole. Someone in jeans and a black hooded sweat shirt was walking away hurridly. Clio threw her purse on the flor, shoved her keys into her pocket, grabbed the first object she could find (which happened to be a large umbrella), pulled open the door and ran out after the figure. Whoever it was recognized her intentions. They started running without looking back. She followed all the way down to the street level. They exited the building through the front door, right past the sleeping security guard. She was by the stairs when the front doors closed behind him or her. By the time she reached the street as well, they were nowhere to be seen. The commotion from earlier when the street had been blocked by ambulances had been cleared away (poor little kid; yet another reason she didn't belong here) but there was still no sign of the hooded figure she had been chasing. She returned slowly inside and took the elevator back upstairs. When she got back inside her apartment, she picked up the envelope off the floor and slid out the single photo it contained. The photo was of her cat; written at the bottom of the picture in black permanent marker were the words: WATCH OUT. She started packing that night. Nightwitch stayed inside from then on.