ARC: Cracked Read Free Page B

leaps, not from there. Closer they come, their footsteps so quiet I almost can’t hear them over the growl in my throat. Come in, come in, closer. I will leap over. Maybe a leap and a few swipes. Just a few! Just to mess up those suits, that hair. Let them know what was here, what they escaped. It’s rather humanitarian of me, helping them to count their blessings. Appreciate what they have – like their heads. Too many people take them for granted.
    I crouch even lower as they approach, while rising on the balls of my feet. Ready to leap, ready to dive over. Ready to show these fools that they do not control me. I am not some weak little human. I am unique, special. Powerful in a way they could never anticipate. In fact, I’ve never felt more powerful. Samson’s fresh soul must have been extra strong.
    They move in. Twelve feet, ten feet, eight. Their teeth show through snarls and the narrow hallway vibrates with the sound of our enmity. Their fingers curve like claws, just like mine. Do they mock me? I hope so. Deflated arrogance fits beautifully on a plate of defeat.
    They’re close.
    Six feet. I leap, perfectly measured, towards the gap between their heads and the drop ceiling. In the dance of death I am a ballerina, a leaping lady. I want to see the widening eyes, the shock, the awe. I look down and instead see a fist and an explosion of red.
    I hear a crunch, a chorus of cackles.
    I fly backwards and slam into the wall, then collapse, face first, to the floor, gasping. I can’t catch my breath. I push myself on to my back, blinking the confused clouds from my eyes.
    How…? My boggled mind clings to the word with a death grip. How? I’m one of a kind. Mom said I was special. But evidence to the contrary stands over me, burbling with wicked giggles, erupting with maniacal cackles.
    My prey doesn’t cackle, I cackle.
    Instead, I lie in a pool of my own deflated arrogance and a horrible sneaking suspicion dawns.
    They are like me. Like me .
    “What was that ? Did you just try to jump over us?” The leader’s jeering voice cuts into my confusion, and I focus on his face. “And you’re only a halfling? ‘Zi’, my ass.” He howls with laughter.
    They’re also assholes. I leap to my feet with a growl, but unfortunately my knees are a little wobbly and I stagger, setting off another round of loud guffaws.
    Puffy bends over, trying to catch his breath but Hawkish catches his eye and makes like he’s going to dive, giving a girlish little jump, and Puffy loses it again.
    My eyes narrow.
    “Oooooh, don’t make her mad!” the leader gasps around his laughter.
    Rage replaces thought, carried to my brain in an effervescent stream, and I dive at his fat mouth. Quick as lightning, he side-steps and slams me into the wall, without even the slightest pause in his laughter. Hawkish claps him on the back, holding his stomach as the mirth bubbles forth.
    You. Will. Stop. Laughing.
    I whip around and make a motion like I’m going to dive at him again, but, at the last possible second, I jump at his unsuspecting companion instead, punching Hawkish hard in the face. My thumbnail slides across his cheek, and a red line wells. I land, and grin.
    Then realize I’m an idiot. A soul-drunk idiot.
    What was I thinking? I finally get the opportunity for some answers and what do I do? I punch it in the face.
    Dammit.
    They stop laughing and, as the crouching and snarling resume, I realize that failing to get answers is now the least of my problems. They outnumber me, they’re stronger than me and they’re pissed.
    Shit.
    As they leap, I cut sharp and run, bent low, my feet flying. Snarls and stomps follow behind me. I hit the stairs and leap down to the first landing, then turn and leap to the bottom. They race right behind me. I blast through the door and it explodes out of its frame at the contact. It slows me, only a half-second, but it’s enough. I’m tackled from behind. A blur of brightly patterned furniture and warm