Streaking down the deserted streets of the city, Nieve couldn’t believe how fantastic she felt. Normally, she’d be unnerved – and perhaps she should be unnerved – to be running all alone at night in a place that was scary enough at the best of times for a kid. Anything might jump out of an alley and grab her, and desperate humans weren’t the worst of it. The denizens of the Black City had migrated to the upper world and were at large, as both Lias and Sarah had said. They were like nocturnal predators that no longer had to keep themselves hidden in burrows and under rocks and deep in shadowy woods. Predators that were after much larger quarry than nervous rabbits or fearful, scampering mice.
But . . . no scampering for Nieve. She ran so fast that the buildings she passed were almost a blur, doors and windows and signs flowing one into the other like run-on architecture, like one endless building. Sarah had been right about that.
Despite this, at the last minute Frances had been reluctant to let her go.
“Maybe this isn’t such a hot idea,” she’d said. They had crept down to a side door of the hospital and both stood gazing at the darkened and looming buildings that lined the street. “Let’s skip it, Nieve. We’ll hide you here and send someone else.”
“No, it’s okay. I want to go, have to. These runners, I don’t know, I feel protected wearing them.”
“How reliable is that? This is Cinderella territory, if you ask me.”
“Well, I’m not planning on losing my shoes.”
“Look, we couldn’t even scare up a flashlight for you, how are you going to see where you’re going?”
“With this, I guess.” Nieve had held out her hand and the daylight zipped onto her palm and hovered there, glowing even more brightly than before. She still felt so conflicted about taking the light from Dr. Morys that she hadn’t mentioned it when she told Frances and Sarah about finding him at Bone House.
“Way out,” Frances had grinned, somewhat reassured. “Like I said, Nievy, you’re interesting.”
Nieve could only hope that she’d be too interesting, flavour-wise, for anything roving around that had an appetite for children and could move faster than her.
Could anything move faster? So far, no. She passed a lone car that had been scooting along, almost causing the driver to plow into a store window. He gawked at her, incredulous, as she scorched past, and must have thought her yet another uncanny night creature on the loose.
Not long after, one of those uncanny creatures picked up her trail and scuttled after her, snuffling and clattering along like a pig wearing armour. She had no idea what it was, and never found out, because it couldn’t keep up and eventually collapsed in a gasping heap. That these fantastical night creatures themselves had limitations gave her courage. (Although, maybe it had been a pig wearing armour and not much of a threat.)
Nieve flew along past shops and apartments, and it did feel like flying, she was so light-footed. It was like running a magical marathon – no pain or exhaustion involved. Like the wind I go . . . ha, something she used to say as a joke.
Did the wind ever get lost, though? Some of the streets were vaguely familiar from earlier trips into the city, and she did pass that grim art gallery and candy store again, so had to trust that on some level – street-level, down with her shoes – she knew where she was going.
The daylight helped. If she hesitated at all or slowed to a stop, it flowed down from her shoulder where it was perched like a tiny headlight (sometimes it even rode on her crown like an actual headlight), and skittered up the appropriate street, leading the way.
Once the landmarks became more familiar, Nieve was able to locate the road that led out of the city and back to town. Finding it was like meeting up with an old friend, yet she knew she had to keep a sharp lookout. The fields and ditches on either side of the road were overgrown with vicious weeds, clacking their leaves like knives, their meaty flowers reeking. She kept well away from them, running along the centre of the road while the whole time they snapped and hissed and lunged at her. A herd of horses in one field had not been so lucky. Nothing was left of them but skeletons, still standing and swaying slightly as if about to bolt. Unless the skeletal horses were themselves phantoms.
At one point, she caught sight of a group of children with white hair and pale, translucent skin, playing in one of the fields. She tried not to look at them, but they were having so much fun, laughing and skipping around, and they were so . . . attractive. She’d never seen such beautiful children before, and they spoke so sweetly, their voices musical and endearing. They waved at her and called out . . . come play, Nieve, join us, come on! Forget those ugly old people. Forget what they asked you to do. They don’t care if you’re alone and afraid, they don’t care if you get hurt. Come with us, we’ll take you to a secret place, the most wonderful place in the world, Nieve, forever safe . . . . Nieve gave herself a shake and pulled her eyes away from them. She began humming loudly to drown them out, and determinedly kept going, while they continued to spin an enticing, melodic web around her. She felt herself slowing, struggling, as though running in a dream and not getting anywhere. Although she knew she had to be because she soon passed a dilapidated barn on the side of the road out of which issued a rending, hair-raising screech. For some reason, this stopped the voices. It cut them dead, but not her.
Like the wind, she thought, a blistering wind . . . and she stormed on.
Nieve was running so fast that she didn’t see the figure that rose up directly before her until it was too late. It pulled itself up out of the dusty road, a huge, ragged apparition with a cloaked hoary head and fingers as long and sharp as ice picks. She ran straight into it, gasping with shock, as if she’d just taken a plunge into arctic waters. Once enveloped in it, she couldn’t see a thing, only a kind of cloudy nothingness. She was a cloudy nothingness. But no, she thought, that’s not true!
With every cell in her body straining to go forward, she pushed and kicked and punched, until finally she tore through the thing, ripping it apart. As she burst through, its body exploded into a freezing shower of ghostly hail that poured down around her, while its cloaked head spun off shrieking into the dark.
After that, Nieve thought, meeting a waft or two would be nothing.
She should be so lucky.
She had been running hard, going flat out and still curiously untaxed by the effort, when she realized that something else was following her. It, too, seemed to run without effort, moving swiftly and silently. And while it made no sound, she could feel it at her back, her skin prickling as it closed in. Was it the same shadowy creature that had followed her on her night run to Gran’s? Or was it like that winged terror that Gran had once told her about, the Wild Beast of Barriesdale? The creature had only three legs, yet bounded easily, half-flying, over hills and houses and rivers in pursuit of its prey.
Nieve poured it on, running even faster. The daylight quivered on the knuckle of her fisted hand, as if it were straining to pull her forward. But, no matter how fast she ran, the thing behind stuck with her, it was at her very back, its breath hot on her neck.
Concentrating all her effort on her feet – what would happen if she stumbled and fell? – and trying with all her might not to think of anything else, struggling to stay utterly focused, something Gran had said nevertheless flickered across her mind. If things start to go amiss, get word to me. Lias knows how.
What word? How? Lias knows . . . what!? Lias!!
She heard the roar of a car. It was barreling down the road behind her making an unholy racket – no muffler, radio wailing, horn blaring. The car was travelling so fast that Nieve was sure it was going to hit her. She scrambled to get out of the way, diving into the ditch, with no thought of the thing at her back or the clacking, carnivorous weeds.
The driver of the car hit the breaks and she heard an ear-splitting squeal of tires, followed by a tremendous BANG! and a CRACK!
Then silence.
Nieve peeked out cautiously. She could only guess – and hope! – that her beastly pursuer had paused in confusion for a split-second as the car bore down. A split-second too long.
Pulling herself out of the ditch, with a weed seedling gnawing on her sleeve, she checked to see if the creature was dead, expecting to see roadkill of the most revolting kind. But all that was left of it was a greasy smear on the road.
Then she looked at the car, knowing it couldn’t possibly be the silver one, which was too wimpy to flatten a monster. What she saw was more like a car skeleton. It had no body, no windows, no doors, and no driver. But it did have an engine, a chassis, seats, headlights, and a radio that was playing an obnoxious popular song full blast.
And . . . it had Lias!
He hopped out of the passenger side and ran over to Nieve, sidestepping the greasy smear.
“Didn’t I say you could run? Never thought we’d catch up with you. Hey, swank,” he eyed her shoes. Then he took in the smear. “Second one of those we hit. Nothing left for the crows, eh?”
Nieve was so happy to see him, all she could say, with a laugh of relief, was, “We?”
Lias nodded at the car. “A wild man on the road, even worse than Frances, but a mechanical genius.”
“Lirk!” Nieve saw two small hands appear on the steering wheel, one of which now saluted her. “How did you ever . . . say, isn’t that Frances’ car, what’s left of it?”
“Aye. We got to the hospital just after you left, got the lowdown, and here we are, your humble servants.” Lias gave a mock bow.
“Uh-huh,” Nieve smiled. “But I thought Lirk was . . . you know.”
“On their side? Turns out he’s Weazen’s nephew, and Weazen’s my old nursemaid, which you’ve probably figured out by now.” (She hadn’t.) “None of us have any reason to side with them, believe me.” He paused, looking sheepish. “Had to bribe Lirk with your friend’s elfshot, mind. But don’t worry, I’ll get it back. Say, we’re not the only ones who did some damage here.”
Lias walked over to the ditch where Nieve had taken refuge. There was a wide circular scorch mark where she’d been crouching, and strong smell of barbequed yuck permeated the air.
Joining him, she stared at it, puzzled. “What happened? It wasn’t burnt when I jumped in. Ick.” She wrinkled her nose. “Stinks.”
“It was that lux of yours,” said Lias. “’Tis a wonderful thing.”
Nieve raised her hand up to appraise the little daylight anew, but it had disappeared from sight (she could feel it hovering at the back of her neck). She did now notice the weed seedling, its tiny teeth clamped on her sleeve. Carefully, she tugged it off and looked at it, wriggling like a worm between her fingers. She was about to drop it into the charred ditch, but then changed her mind and stuck it in her pocket instead. Might be helpful to study it (also, it was kind of cute). She decided that if it chewed a hole in her shirt, she’d get rid of it.
“Might as well hitch a ride with us,” said Lias. “We’re almost there anyway.”
“Yeah?” Nieve gave the car’s carcass a dubious once-over.
Lirk, who had fully reappeared, crooked grin and all, motioned impatiently to her, urging her to hop to it and hop on.
Funny that she was the reluctant passenger now, and Lias not. “They’ll hear us coming that’s for sure.”
“Aye, and quake in their boots! Let’s go.”