Heartless(53)

The sight of them, who had been so merry and carefree minutes before, filled Cath with dread.

“Run fast,” Jest whispered against her ear. “Head straight to the Crossroads and try to stay near the middle of the group if you can—it will be safest.”

“Why?” she said. “My life has no more value than anyone else’s.”

Jest’s eyes darkened and she thought he would refute, but he seemed to reconsider. Finally, he said, “Just hurry, and don’t look back. I’ll be right behind you.”

Cath swallowed and nodded.

His hands fell from her shoulders. Raven swooped toward them and propped himself on Jest’s shoulder.

With the bird’s ink-black feathers and Jest’s ink-black motley, they looked like shadows come to life.

“On the count of three,” said Hatta.

More scratches across the rooftop. Another scream from the monster outside.

“One.”

Jest pressed Cath forward, urging her to stand with the others. Though her legs were shaking, she willed them to be strong as she placed herself between the Porcupine and the Bloodhound. The gray-haired lady met her eyes and gave a nod that was perhaps meant to be comforting, though to Cath it seemed like a look passed between soldiers being sent onto a battlefield.

“Two.”

Something cracked like splitting timber—the roof being ripped from its trusses.

At the back of the group, the Lion growled.

“Three!”

Hatta yanked open the door and he and Haigha charged forward, leaping clear of the wooden steps. Their feet thumped onto the grass outside and they took off in opposite directions—Haigha bounding full-speed toward the Crossroads, his powerful hind legs propelling him fast over the meadow, while Hatta took off toward the nearby tree cover. He propped his hat on the tip of his cane and extended it overhead.

The shop erupted into chaos. The animals rushed out the door in a tight pack. Cath gripped her skirt and hardly realized she’d started running until there was soft ground under her feet. Ahead, she could see Haigha waving to them from the brush, coaxing them toward the entrance of the Crossroads.

A shriek rattled the meadow, followed by the beat of thunderous wings. Cath imagined the Jabberwock launching itself off the rooftop of the traveling shop and diving toward them from the sky, but she dared not look back.

The monster’s scream was met with the caw of a raven—no, two ravens—and a thrumming, rumbling roar from the Lion, and Hatta yelling something she couldn’t make out.

Cath was already out of breath, her legs shaking so hard she thought they would collapse before she reached the brush. But they didn’t. She bounded onto the pathway only a few steps behind the Bloodhound and felt an instant sense of safety from the tree cover.

Haigha stood beside a tree trunk, ushering them through the Crossroads doorway. The door was narrow, though, and after their rush from the hat shop, they had bottlenecked to a standstill.

The Squirrel and Goldfish disappeared into the shadows. The Boa Constrictor slithered through. The Bloodhound leaped across the threshold, carrying his charge to safety.

A whimper made Cath glance back.

The Turtle had frozen, not quite to the end of the clearing, and withdrawn all of his limbs into his shell. She could hear his sobs echoing from inside.

A shadow soared over him and the grasses bent back under the beat of the monster’s wings.

Cath shrank down into the shrubs, her heart throbbing, and dared to look up at the beast that had once haunted her nightmares. Talons long as butcher knives. Slithery, writhing neck. Burning embers in its eyes. The creature was made of inky shadows and fire and muscles trapped beneath taut, scaly skin.

Two birds were flocking around it, circling its head, trying to keep it distracted from the creatures below. Diving, clawing, then darting out of reach.

Raven … and Jest.

Hatta was standing on the far side of the clearing, his hat still perched on his cane and eyes wild. Whatever distraction he’d first offered, he’d been forgotten now.

“Get up!” the Lion yelled, pounding on the Turtle’s shell with his paw. “You’re almost there. You must keep moving!”

“I’m … too … slow,” the Turtle cried. “I’ll never … m-make it!”

“You must try!” said the Lion.

“My lady!”

Cath glanced back. Haigha was waving to her from the doorway, his red eyes large with horror. Everyone else had gone through. “Come now, quick!”

She swallowed.

Overhead, the Jabberwock shrieked. It sounded hungry. It sounded ravenous.

It dropped down and perched again on the shop, which swayed on its rickety wheels. Even in the darkness Cath could see the destruction it had wrecked upon the roof.

Something slipped over her eyes and Cath shoved it back. She’d forgotten about the chef’s hat, the one she’d chosen from Hatta’s wall. A hat for making unconventional decisions.

She took in a deep breath and searched the ground. She grabbed a long stick.

“My lady!” Haigha screamed again, but Cath ignored him as she launched herself out of the brush, charging toward the Lion and the Turtle.

The Jabberwock cried and Cath knew it had spotted her racing across the meadow.

“No!” Hatta yelled. “Over here!”