Page 19 of At the Mercy of Midnight
Frank frowned down at her. “I can’t let you go alone.”
“She won’t go alone.”
Amelia shifted towards the speaker, surprised to find Silas standing beside her, arms folded and staring stoically at Frank.
“Finley—”
He set his eyes on her. “No debate,” he said firmly. “If anything is dragging you off into the night, they’ll have to drag me off, too.”
She might have protested further, except for the profound relief of not being alone on such a dangerous trek into the darkness. It was a strange thing, to be so suddenly reliant onthis man when a few days ago she would not have trusted him to safeguard so much as a sandwich.
He fetched his own burning log before returning to her. “We run, fast.”
She nodded, heart thundering in her throat. “Agreed.”
“Stop agreeing with me so much, Winslow,” he said, though his voice cracked on the joke. “It’s scaring me more than the Crawlers.”
Amelia rolled her eyes then turned back to the dark. Her feet shifted from side to side, preparing for the possibility she was about to be torn apart. Every second, she convinced herself she was ready to go, then panic would surge, and her feet would remain fixed to the spot. After a few breathless moments, she pulled herself together and let out a long, deep exhale.
“Okay,” she said shakily, “ready…run!”
FIVE
Armed with their torches, they moved through the night, sprinting amongst shadows. The chittering and breathing of something beyond their orb of flickering light seemed to move in unison, just outside the reach of their flames.
It was frightening in a way that would remain, a perpetual nightmare she would never forget.
Her feet kept moving through sheer will, even as her body trembled forcefully.
They reached Amelia’s tent, and she ran straight to her small trunk where the crystals were stowed. The trunk was glyph-locked and would only open to her specific touch.
“It’s strangely quiet now,” Silas said from behind her, shifting on his feet with agitation.
“Do you prefer your monsters chatty, Finley?”
“No, but I do prefer to be able to see what I’m running from before it rips my throat out.”
Something scratched against the tent wall to her left, and her eyes shifted to something sharp stretching the fabric just as the lid sprang open.
“Finley…”
“I see it,” he said. “Any day now, Winslow.”
Amelia spotted the bulging bag of spare crystals, and picked them up, standing and cradling them to her chest with one hand.
“Great,” he said, turning from her. “Let’s move.”
At that moment, a gust of wind tore through the camp, blowing the tent opening in violently. Their torches fire reduced to almost nothing at the force, leaving them in darkness.
“Fuck—”
Silas’ words were cut off abruptly, followed by a thump.
“Finley!” Amelia screamed, dropping the bag of crystals, which clinked to the ground near her feet.
The flame stabilised and brightened before something skittered away, clicking as its limb moved. Amelia froze to the spot, her eyes watching the thing sprint through the entrance at a speed that was wholly unnatural. But she had seen it. Shiny and elongated, it seemed to have dozens of razor-sharp limbs that left pin-prick holes in the flooring of her tent.
Silas groaned on the ground in the middle of the tent. She stumbled over to him, holding up the feeble torch to inspect him.
