I didn’t give it a chance. I jumped to my feet.
I planted my boot and drove my heel down into its face.
Once.
Bone cracked. The nose flattened with a crunch.
It jerked. Fingers scrabbling at the ground, body spasming.
Again.
Harder.
Something collapsed this time—caving inward with a sound like stepping on a wet paper bag full of gravel. Thick blood erupted across the concrete, across my boots, spattering up my shins in hot flecks. One eye burst from the pressure, deflating into the ruined socket.
It stopped moving.
I didn’t look down again.
“Up!” I snapped, grabbing Libby by the arm, hauling her to her feet.
She stumbled. Breath ragged. Eyes wide. A smear of that dark fluid across her cheek where it had dripped on her.
“I’m good—” she choked. Trying not to think about what just happened.
“We need to move!”
More coming now.
Too many. Too close. I could hear them converging—that dragging, shuffling chorus closing in from every direction.
I shoved her toward the open door.
“In! Now!”
She climbed in fast, scrambling over the seat. I spun, backing up, gun raised as the first of them closed within arm’s reach.
One got too close—
I fired.
The crack split the air, echoing off the brownstones. The round punched through its forehead and blew out the back in a spray of dark matter that painted the car behind it. It dropped straight down as if someone cut its strings.
“Go!” Fiona screamed from inside.
I threw myself behind the wheel, slammed the door, and shoved the Suburban into drive.
Floored it.
The Suburban fishtailed hard left before the tires caught. My head thudded against the headrest. Someone behind me slammed into the window; the impact was a dull, heavy thud that shook the frame.
One of them hit the passenger side as we passed—hands dragging across metal with a sound like a key raked down acar door, leaving dark smears across the window before falling away.
Inside the Suburban—silence.
Except for breathing.
Fast. Ragged. Shaky.
