Page 39 of Stardusted
Cold sweat slicked my armpits and stuck my shirt to my spine. I inched backward as silently as I could, deeper beneath the table. It brought me closer to the far exit.
Past those legs and feet, the doors had been obliterated, pieces warped and jagged like a wrecking ball had been used to open them.
That thingwasthe wrecking ball.
A murderous wrecking ball with nightmare chicken feet?—
Except…wait. I stilled.
Something new was happening.
The air thickened. My skin buzzed, and pressure gathered at the base of my skull. The hair rose on my arms.
An invisible tug lurched deep in my middle.
And then…a whisper.
Come here.
A distant part of me recoiled, but it was too late. That tether snapped taut, and I gasped.
The pulling sensation was strange, electric, andfamiliar. Familiar in a way I couldn’t name, a mutter skating the edge of memory. Like a voice calling my name in a dream I couldn’t quite recall.
The mechanical footsteps faded into the background.
That tug—that draw—it was coming from right behind me. I turned before I even registered the impulse.
The specimen box I’d knocked off the table lay tipped on its side. The same one the figure I thought I’d seen had been standing over when I barged in. Crumpled packing material spilled out.
Later, I would struggle to remember clearly what happened next.
My thoughts were foggy. Shrouded. Like something had slipped inside my mind and taken over. Fear unraveled into nothingness. My blood pulsated in my ears. My body moved on its own.
And like I was a spectator to my own actions, I watched my hands reach out. My fingers gripped the box’s edge and shoved it aside.
I didn’t remember sliding out from under the table. I didn’t remember crawling forward, either, but the linoleum bit into my knees as I hunched over the container.
Behind me, metal groaned and whirred. Talons cracked against tile. Somethingroared. The table I’d hidden under was knocked clean across the room, crashing into the wall.
But I didn’t flinch. I didn’t move.
I leaned over the box and looked inside. Whatever lay in there was buried. It whispered furiously. I didn’t recognize the words, but the urgency was clear.
Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted movement. An unyielding metal grip clamped down on my upper arm from behind. A hand. It was too big.
Fingers. Strange and multi-jointed. Squeezing too tight.
Muffled panic ignited, but I still couldn’t tear my gaze from the box. Couldn’t stop myself from shoving aside the sterile gel packs cradling its contents.
Those whispers grew louder.
Pain flared where the steel grasp dug into my bicep, but I’d already reached inside the tote with my other hand. It closed around a smooth stone tablet.
The moment I lifted it, a jolt shot up my arm.
The crushing grip vanished. The thing behind me snarled a string of harsh, mangled syllables in my ear. That massive metal hand swept past my shoulder—it hadsix fingers—reaching for the stone tablet. At the same time, something slammed into my back, hard enough to send me flying.
The impact spun me, and like it’d broken a spell, sound, sensation,thoughtrushed back.
