She dumps the stolen Suzuki Aurora in an alley leading off Delaware Avenue,
not far from the river, then crosses another alley about as broad as a football 
field and strewn with garbage, piles of debris, broken chunks of concrete, 
twisted metal struts, burnt-out rusted cars, and old junk. At the rear of a 
deteriorating three-story brick building stand a trio in worn black synthleather 
jackets: two males, one female. They’re dressed like gangers, but that’s
deceiving. They are sentries, Tikki knows, and they see her approaching despite 
the dark. In all likelihood, they smelled her before she ever stepped into view. 
Tikki knows that because she knows what they are. Their smell makes it clear. 
Like her, they may look human, but are in fact a very different kind of animal. 
In some ways, they have more in common with her than any human.