Chapter 2. The early summer evening brought a slight chill to the air, not enough to make one wish for the warmer days to come, but just enough to blanket the downtown and a thick fog billowing in off the lake.

Through the mists of those low rolling clouds, it would just have been possible for eyes that were cast upward to catch a fleeting glimpse of a lithe athletic form soaring high among the skyscrapers.

Few would have braved such a gesture, for the same fog that hid the mysterious shape made excellent cover for the denizens of the night,

and in Toronto there were still terrors in the gaslight.

But had a pair of eyes held on that narrow patch of sky between the towers,

they would have beheld a sight as remarkable as any they could hope to see.

Unmistakably female in form the shape held herself aloft like a hunting hawk might,

soaring on thermal waves of air, holding her

place in the sky as only one with long practice and a love of danger might have a hope to do.

Kit Baxter had both in spades.

A year and a half earlier, she had been a city taxi driver without much hope of ever being

more.

She worked hard, took care of her mother,

and tried to hide her disappointment at her lot in life as best she could. After all, there was no

use complaining when so many had things much worse. The city teamed with those whose lives

had been taken apart by the darkness of those days, and Kit Baxter had been grateful she was not

yet one of them. Adventure and excitement were the stuff of magazine stories, and not meant for her.

And then, as if by fate she had crossed paths with a certain wealthy young gadabout named August

Fenwick. Even with her natural disdain for the wealthy,

she could not help but know who he was, as he owned almost half the city, his fortune untouched

by the depression that had destroyed so many lives. To Kit he had seemed arrogant and worthless,

until she realized that this was exactly what he wanted her to think, her and all the world. For by a

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