Nieve (26 page)

“They take the form of ordinary people, but they're definitely not that.”

This got her attention. “They're here in the hospital?”

“Listen, Nieve,” said Frances, suddenly more serious. “We need your help, that must be pretty obvious. I wouldn't ask if there was any other way, and I sure hope your Gran'll forgive me. There's a group of people here, medical people mostly, who're fighting this craziness that's taking over. I stumbled into a couple of them, lucked out when I went running off like a maniac, or I might
be
a gurney myself right now. And I'm so sorry for abandoning you like that . . . but, I know you understand.”

“Of course,” Nieve nodded. “You were looking for Malcolm. Me too.”

Frances gestured toward the stacks of paper on the floor and spilling off the shelves. “We've discovered something. There's an antidote. Dr. Manning, remember him, he used to live in town, he invented the serum that those sickos Wormius and Ashe have been producing and distributing from their nasty little drugstore. But he also invented an antidote. Or anyway a formula for one.”

“Which we think is hidden at Ferrets,” added Sarah.

“You could find him and ask him for it, couldn't you?” Nieve could see all too clearly where this was going.

“No one knows what happened to him. He disappeared when Ferrets, or rather Woodlands, was sold to Mortimer Twisden. Some say he disappeared
before
it was sold.”

Both Frances and Sarah were staring at her intently. She knew there was no point in asking
why me?
because they'd only tell her that she was
different
. . . and
interesting
. . . and that she had
abilities.
All she had was a pair of leafy shoes with an untested reputation for speed. Plus a tiny light that was presently illuminating her armpit.

“What happens when I don't show up in the waiting room?”

“Originally, we were going to wheel you back to Elixibyss, with you pretending to be drugged and compliant. We have word that she's headed to Ferrets to deal with Twisden, something's come up, but we're not sure what. If you were to go with her, you'd be able to search for the antidote. She'd think you too doped-up to need watching. Mind, it's pretty risky. She might just decide to vanish and take you with her.”

Nieve made a face. She wanted to ride in the silver car again about as much as she wanted to continue chumming around with the Impress. “I don't think it's at Ferrets, this formula or whatever. Someone's already searched the place. Don't you remember the furniture and stuff scattered around outside?”

“You're right,” Sarah said. “Twisden turned the place upside-down and still didn't find it. He told me he was looking for a diamond brooch to give me that had belonged to his wife. Poor Molly.” She shook her head sadly. “He never found the formula, but I'm pretty sure it's still in that house, somewhere.”

“I'd drive you there myself,” said Frances. “But some jerk stripped the car, picked it clean. No cars anywhere, the streets are deserted because everyone's freaking out, huddled in their closets at home biting their nails. Taxis won't even answer calls anymore.”

“Let me get this straight,” Nieve sighed heavily, more exasperated than anything. So much for feeling safe! “You want me to
run
through the city and back to town, which is what, fifty miles away, all by myself, in the dark, with . . . who know's
what
roaming around out there?”

“You'll be moving too fast for whatever's out there, Nieve.” Sarah touched her shoulder. “Believe me.”

Nieve wanted to believe her, but Sarah hadn't exactly earned her trust yet. Poor Molly indeed!

“We'll distract her,” said Frances. “One of our doctors will go out with a complementary bucket of headache pills and tell her there've been some unexpected complications with your treatment. We'll make sure you have enough time one way or another, don't worry. I'll keep an eye out for Lias, too. He'll be looking for you.”

Nieve gazed down at her shoes, thinking it over. Was this scheme as crackbrained as it sounded? Ferrets was close to her home, after all, and there wasn't a place she'd rather be right now. She ached to see her parents, and Gran, and Mr. Mustard Seed, and Artichoke. What if they needed her help, too?

While considering this, she watched, intrigued, as a ripple of motion passed through the leaves on her shoes, making them flutter and tremble. Clothed in these living shoes, her feet felt wonderfully light, really, and tingly, restless, itching to move it. Yes,
yes,
she wanted to go home more than anything. In fact, she couldn't wait to go. She began to bounce up and down like a sprinter preparing to take off.

“All right,” she said. “I'm out of here.”

–Thirty-One–
Fast Forward

S
treaking 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
head
light), 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.