knees with a painful groan.
“Oh, crap!” she cried out. “Are you okay?”
The scrawny kid rubbed at his knees while bracing against Velvet’s shoulder just to stay upright in the constant rumbling. Everything about the boy was thin, from his gangly limbs to his awkwardly narrow head and barely visible lips. He’d have looked like a pencil if it weren’t for his chillingly lovely eyes, alive at that moment with terror. “This is the worst it’s ever been,” he said. “Somethin’ real bad is happening!”
“No shit!” Velvet shouted.
He craned his head to glare in the opposite direction. “The twins were right behind me!”
Velvet glanced over his shoulder, and sure enough, Logan and Luisa emerged from the smoky haze of the shadowquake, grimaces of frustration plastered on their normallycalm faces. They clung to the building’s mortar lines spotlit by one of the few remaining streetlamps, like the twins had been mistakenly forced into a jailhouse lineup.
Fear was a temporary thing for the twins, who were the best poltergeists to come along in decades, or at least that’s what the station agent said, and Velvet was totally in agreement. Logan and Luisa could scare the crap out of the worst kinds of villains and, as their months together had shown, took great pleasure in crushing skulls, when they had to … and even when they didn’t.
“We gotta get to the station!” Luisa cried, her tone battened with dread.
“Now!” shouted Logan from over her shoulder, his eyes wild with excitement. It was looking like that brawl was definitely going to happen.
They were right, of course, and were voicing the obvious. The station housed the primary cracks between the world of the living and the dead. That Velvet had found another and hadn’t reported it was, well, beside the point at the moment, but nonetheless bad. Even now, the station agent would be gathering intelligence about the source of the shadowquake. Her visions might not nail down what horrible event was occurring in the daylight, but she’d get a clear enough picture so that Velvet’s team could focus on the journey.
Velvet watched the sky. The shadows struck and recoiled off each other, battling to be first to the mountain. She felt a surge of adrenaline roil through her, and the light within her glowed brightly through tiny cracks in the ash she wore, like magma peeking through fractured rocks.
She bolted for the funicular ramp.
The wooden carriage itself might turn out to be useless, with the ground rolling as it was, but they could always climb onto the tracks and use them to get up the hill to the massive station at its peak. She hoped it wouldn’t come to that; it would take forever to hike the several miles to the top, especially with the ground convulsing like an epileptic. Velvet could barely see six feet in front of her now; the clouds of inky crap had descended into her line of sight. She vaulted over the rail and onto the raised funicular platform, the others moving like a wolf pack behind her, fluidly, in unison.
Despite the situation, she knew she was grinning. Maybe not in the same way that Logan was, in gleeful anticipation, but her excitement was there on her face.
It always was when there was a mission.
Nothing could keep her mind off her troubles with Bonesaw like a big giant commando operation–inducing catastrophe.
Dropping into the pit where the railcar traveled, Velvet closed her eyes and crouched to feel the bronze rails. The rocking and rolling was stronger there, and she had a difficult time distinguishing the feel of the ground’s shaking from the vibration of metal against metal. It was subtle at first. An infinitesimal shudder ran through her grayed skin, just a hint of what was rolling toward them, cutting through the shadows like a knife.
“There it is,” she said.
Quentin nodded hopefully.
There was a consistent tremor driving through the bronze.
The railcar was still functioning
. She turned and
“Oh, crap!” she cried out. “Are you okay?”
The scrawny kid rubbed at his knees while bracing against Velvet’s shoulder just to stay upright in the constant rumbling. Everything about the boy was thin, from his gangly limbs to his awkwardly narrow head and barely visible lips. He’d have looked like a pencil if it weren’t for his chillingly lovely eyes, alive at that moment with terror. “This is the worst it’s ever been,” he said. “Somethin’ real bad is happening!”
“No shit!” Velvet shouted.
He craned his head to glare in the opposite direction. “The twins were right behind me!”
Velvet glanced over his shoulder, and sure enough, Logan and Luisa emerged from the smoky haze of the shadowquake, grimaces of frustration plastered on their normallycalm faces. They clung to the building’s mortar lines spotlit by one of the few remaining streetlamps, like the twins had been mistakenly forced into a jailhouse lineup.
Fear was a temporary thing for the twins, who were the best poltergeists to come along in decades, or at least that’s what the station agent said, and Velvet was totally in agreement. Logan and Luisa could scare the crap out of the worst kinds of villains and, as their months together had shown, took great pleasure in crushing skulls, when they had to … and even when they didn’t.
“We gotta get to the station!” Luisa cried, her tone battened with dread.
“Now!” shouted Logan from over her shoulder, his eyes wild with excitement. It was looking like that brawl was definitely going to happen.
They were right, of course, and were voicing the obvious. The station housed the primary cracks between the world of the living and the dead. That Velvet had found another and hadn’t reported it was, well, beside the point at the moment, but nonetheless bad. Even now, the station agent would be gathering intelligence about the source of the shadowquake. Her visions might not nail down what horrible event was occurring in the daylight, but she’d get a clear enough picture so that Velvet’s team could focus on the journey.
Velvet watched the sky. The shadows struck and recoiled off each other, battling to be first to the mountain. She felt a surge of adrenaline roil through her, and the light within her glowed brightly through tiny cracks in the ash she wore, like magma peeking through fractured rocks.
She bolted for the funicular ramp.
The wooden carriage itself might turn out to be useless, with the ground rolling as it was, but they could always climb onto the tracks and use them to get up the hill to the massive station at its peak. She hoped it wouldn’t come to that; it would take forever to hike the several miles to the top, especially with the ground convulsing like an epileptic. Velvet could barely see six feet in front of her now; the clouds of inky crap had descended into her line of sight. She vaulted over the rail and onto the raised funicular platform, the others moving like a wolf pack behind her, fluidly, in unison.
Despite the situation, she knew she was grinning. Maybe not in the same way that Logan was, in gleeful anticipation, but her excitement was there on her face.
It always was when there was a mission.
Nothing could keep her mind off her troubles with Bonesaw like a big giant commando operation–inducing catastrophe.
Dropping into the pit where the railcar traveled, Velvet closed her eyes and crouched to feel the bronze rails. The rocking and rolling was stronger there, and she had a difficult time distinguishing the feel of the ground’s shaking from the vibration of metal against metal. It was subtle at first. An infinitesimal shudder ran through her grayed skin, just a hint of what was rolling toward them, cutting through the shadows like a knife.
“There it is,” she said.
Quentin nodded hopefully.
There was a consistent tremor driving through the bronze.
The railcar was still functioning
. She turned and
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