Nightstruck - Jenna Black Page 0,104

to travel these streets at night. The occasional sound of gunfire revealed what a struggle those people faced as they tried to fight off the depredations of the Nightstruck.

I didn’t see any Nightstruck, and at first I didn’t see any constructs, either. Then, when I was about halfway to the square, I saw what I thought was a decorative trash can. I gave it a second look because it wasn’t the normal city trash can and in fact looked much more like the kind that were in the square itself. Instead of being solid and blocky, the trash cans in the square are circular and made out of strips of metal. The strips flare at the top, creating an almost flowerlike opening.

Anyway, there was no reason for one of those trash cans to be sitting on the sidewalk on Walnut Street, and the thing was missing its requisite trash bag anyway. The hair on the back of my neck stood up, and I came to a sudden halt when what were supposed to be metal strips moved, the flared tops all turning like heads to look at me.

They turned like heads because they were heads. Snake heads, to be exact. They hissed at me in unison, and the hydralike construct rose on stubby metal legs and trundled toward me.

I stood frozen to the sidewalk, staring in wide-eyed horror. I’m not one of those girls who runs screaming at the very thought of a snake. But this was far worse than an actual snake, and my gun would be useless against it.

It’s got short, stubby legs, I told myself. You can outrun it.

It was between me and the square, so I would have to run past it instead of away from it, which was not a prospect I relished. Still, it was better than standing here waiting for it to reach me, so I darted forward, crossing the street at a diagonal to get as far away from it as possible.

I got past it easily enough, but I heard those stubby little legs clinking against the sidewalk as it pursued me. I ran as fast as I could, the cold air burning my throat and lungs. The construct kept up easily, and when I glanced over my shoulder I saw that it was only about a body length behind me, heads hissing and snapping at me.

One thing I have never been is an athlete. Adrenaline was giving me an extra boost, but I wasn’t used to running, and though I kept pumping my arms and legs as hard as I could, I knew I was slowing down. I expected to feel the bite of those snakes’ metal fangs at any moment, but though I didn’t turn to check, it didn’t sound like the construct was gaining on me.

Still I kept running, my pace getting slower and slower. And still the construct didn’t gain on me. Was it possible the thing was getting tired just like I was? Or was it maybe closer to dawn than I thought and the magic that animated it was fading? But that couldn’t be, because there was no hint of light in the sky.

Eventually I couldn’t run anymore, and I came to a panting halt. I whirled around with my gun in hand, knowing it wouldn’t hurt the construct but having no better way to defend myself.

To my surprise, the construct came to a halt as well, stopping when I was just out of reach of the closest snake heads. Its legs bent so that its bottom was resting on the sidewalk, for all the world like it was sitting down and waiting to see what I would do next.

Keeping my gun pointed at it, I took a couple of steps backward. It followed, then sat again when it was just out of reach. I then tried taking a couple of steps to my right, and again it mirrored my motion. I couldn’t step any closer without being in striking range of the snakes, so that was an experiment I didn’t try. I did try a quicker move to the side, intending to try to dart past it and go back the way I’d come.

I wasn’t entirely surprised when the construct moved way quicker than seemed possible, to block my way.

It wasn’t here to hurt me. It was here to herd me toward Piper. Maybe she thought I’d get cold feet and change my mind about meeting her.

I blew out a deep breath, searching for courage.