night?”
Tansy shrugged. “Easier to get people alone? The upper hand when it comes to hunting?”
I chewed at my lower lip, troubled. “That crystal—the Star—it’s strange. Dorian said that this city once conducted experiments concerned with restoring magic to the wilderness. Do you think maybe the beacon wards them off, somehow, when it’s lit?”
Nix’s wings fluttered, a tiny sound in the stillness. I knew it wanted to comment, but we couldn’t take a five-year-old’s delight as a sign that the family wouldn’t mind Nix’s presence.
“Maybe,” Tansy said, slowly. “But who put it there? Surely not these people.”
She didn’t need to say it, but I knew what she meant. These people were hovering on the brink of survival, living harvest to harvest. And none of them, as far as I could tell, had a shred of magic beyond what sustained them. How could any of them have had the resources to erect such a structure?
I was about to answer when I saw a flicker of a shadow under one of the screens. When a tiny form emerged from behind it, hovering in the darkness just beyond the edge of the firelight, I straightened.
“Molly?” I whispered. “Can’t you sleep?”
She didn’t answer, swaying slightly side to side, her nightgown swishing softly against the tops of her feet. Tansy glanced over, then grinned at me, returning to her study of the flames.
“Why don’t you come sit with us? You can play with my secret friend if you want.”
She took a step forward, just the edges of her toes crossing the ring of firelight. I could see only the faintest outline of her face, her wispy hair, the flash of firelight in her eyes. Why didn’t she come?
My mouth went dry. I don’t know how I knew—it had nothing to do with my abilities, my sensitivities. She made no telling sound, no movement; even the swish of her nightgown had stopped. The steady gleam of her eyes was fixed on my face.
But I knew.
“Tansy,” I whispered, not taking my gaze from the figure in the shadows. Slowly, I reached for the strap of my pack to bring it closer.
I heard Tansy shift, straightening, recognizing the urgency in my voice if not the reason for it.
The girl heard it too. Like a predator scents its prey’s fear, she knew. She took another step forward, and I saw the dark grey tracery of veins on her tiny foot. Her teeth gleamed in the firelight, even and white except for a gap where she’d lost a baby tooth.
And then all I saw was teeth and dead, grey skin and desperate, hungry white eyes. She was on me faster than I could register movement, the pain of her fingernails scratching at my skin jolting me into action. I struggled, the shadow girl’s screaming and snarling mingling with Tansy’s shouts of confusion and Nix’s furious buzzing. I heard other howls rising, the scrape of footsteps, the crackle of hungry voices.
The little girl’s nails dug into the fleshy parts of my shoulders, clinging to me with unnatural strength, her teeth snapping inches from my nose. A string of saliva ran from her lips to my face. I held her away with one hand pressed against her throat—she didn’t even notice, as though she didn’t need to breathe. With my other hand I groped for Oren’s knife, the one I’d kept hidden in my pack.
My strength was giving out. Her teeth caught my earlobe and tore, sending pain like burning needles scattering down my neck and across my face. I heard a scream, not even recognizing the sound as my own voice until I had to gasp for air and the sound ended.
I struck out with the blunt handle of the knife and felt it connect with a dull thud, sending her reeling back with a piercing howl of pain and confusion. I lurched to my feet, a wave of dizziness rushing through me as I swung my pack onto my back. Droplets of blood scattered across the floor as I stumbled, colliding with something warm. I shrieked, only to feel fingers wind through mine and hold tight.
“Tansy—we’ve got to—”
She hauled me backward toward the door. “My bow’s outside,” she gasped. One of her eyes was half-shut and streaming tears, and her other arm hung oddly. Before us was the family, silhouetted by the fire behind them, pacing and watching us, looking for their moment. The pale bandage around Sean’s knee looked strange and out of place, surrounded by the sickly grey flesh of a shadow person. None of them—not even Molly, who had regained her balance—looked like they’d be slowed down by the meager injuries we’d managed to inflict.
They were waiting. Waiting to see what we’d do, waiting for one of us to make even the tiniest movement.
I stepped backward and hit wood. The door. I groped with my free hand for the handle, only to find rough wood, exposed nails.
The barricades. We’d locked ourselves in with monsters.
“Your arm,” I said in a low voice, trying to keep it from shaking. Trying my hardest to keep the creatures from sensing my terror and striking. “Can you help me move this?”
Tansy shook her head, not taking her eyes off of the shadow people. “No,” she gasped. “And we’d never get them all moved in time—they’ll attack if we try.”
My eyes went to the screens, and beyond them, the lobby that stretched back toward a wide staircase. Past that I could see only darkness, my night vision ruined by the fireplace in between.
Tansy swallowed audibly. The sound prompted a gurgle of anticipation from Brandon, his grey face and white eyes sunken behind the black beard. “We’ll never get past them.”
I knew she was right. Molly, the tiniest of them, had leaped on me before I’d even realized she meant to move. There was no way.
A mad whine cut through the low growls and snapping jaws, and we looked in time to see a copper blur zip across the room, directly at Trina. She howled and reeled back, clawing at her face. The blur slowed enough for me to recognize Nix, shifted into a tiny ball of spikes, zipping from shadow to shadow and screaming all the while. They pawed and clawed at the air, but Nix was too fast for them.
I was frozen, staring—but Tansy didn’t hesitate. She surged forward, dragging me with her by our joined hands, making for the back of the lobby. Once I was moving she let go of my hand, stretching her longer legs and putting on a burst of speed. She reached the doors at the back—a pair of them. She ran to one first, jerking at the handle, then skidded to the other. She pulled, pushed, clawed at the wood—but it didn’t budge.
“No good!” she shouted. “The stairs!”
I spun, my shoes squealing against the marble floor, and made for the broad stone staircase. I heard the boy give an outraged scream, and then the solid clink of metal striking stone.
“Don’t let it be in vain,” gasped Tansy, surging past me for the stairs.
I gasped for breath, the air sobbing in and out of me. Blood was seeping down my neck from my ear and into my shirt, sticky and wet. I fought another surge of dizziness and turned back for the main room. I couldn’t leave Nix now. But just then I heard the familiar whine of madly whirring wings and a voice that only became distinct as it went zipping past me in a flash of copper and sapphire:
I saw a shadow, indistinct, clawing its way around one of the screens. I bolted up the two flights of stairs, my pack bouncing heavily against my spine.
I found Tansy sprinting down a carpeted corridor on the third floor and I followed, gasping for air. There were doors on either side of the hallway, but though we tugged and pounded on each one, they were all sealed up tightly. The hallway ended in a broad window overlooking an alley below. Only part of the glass remained around the edges, jagged and splintered.
Nix’s momentum carried it out the window several feet before it turned and zoomed back in, hovering, clockwork grinding and twitching as it tried to keep flying despite the damage it had taken. Tansy took only a moment to gasp for air and then spun around, ready to try the other direction—but the shadows were there, indistinct in the dark, coming faster and faster.
I looked at Tansy, who looked back at me. Time stopped for a moment and we stood there, her one eye nearly swollen shut, the other wide with terror. She’d only ever fought the shadows at a distance. She’d never
