made a sound she couldn’t identify, and started up the stairs. “I’ve been doing this a very long time, young lady. I’ve hunted all kinds of people.”
Amber stood as he approached. “You’ve never hunted anyone quite like me.”
He reached the top, came towards her, and she stepped out of the shadows and smiled, giving him a flash of her fangs.
He froze, stared at her, and then his eyes narrowed. “You are a girl full of surprises, aren’t you?” he said, starting to move to the side. Circling her. That knife in his hand. “So that’s why you want Buxton. You have your power and now you want more. Funny the effect power has on a person.”
“I suppose it is,” she said, turning with him as he circled.
“Has it changed you, Amber? Apart from physically, I mean. Are you a different person now?”
“Like you wouldn’t believe.”
Shanks smiled. “I bet. I saw you and I thought to myself, easy target. Now look at you. Suddenly I feel very silly indeed.”
“How did you get me in here?”
Shanks’s chuckle was dry, and lacking good cheer. “You don’t have to worry about that,” he said. “You’re never going to leave.”
He lunged, jabbing low and then slashing high. Amber dodged backwards, barely avoiding the blade that whistled by her throat. Shanks didn’t stop moving, however. In an instant, he was on her, pushing her back against the banister. She grabbed at his knife hand, fingers closing round his wrist. He was stronger than she’d expected. Not as strong as her but close enough. He headbutted her and pain flashed outwards from her nose. His other hand was on her throat and he was pushing her back, over the banister. She grew talons and raked his arm.
Howling, Shanks released his grip. They stumbled, locked together. Blood ran from Shanks’s forearm, but he ignored it and reached up for her horns. He suddenly stepped back and yanked downwards and Amber cried out, her knees hitting the floor. He kicked her, the toe of his shoe connecting with her chin, and Amber sprawled.
“You’re all strength,” Shanks said, kneeling on her throat, “but no finesse. No style.”
“Amber!” came Milo’s voice from all around them. “Amber, someone’s coming. We must have set off an alarm. Amber?”
Through the window behind Shanks, she could see out into the room as Milo stepped in. He was a giant.
“Amber?” he said, his voice astonishingly loud.
Shanks smiled down at her. “Hush now. Don’t spoil the surprise.” He pulled her up, holding the knife against her throat, and moved her to the window.
Glen came in after Milo, closing the door. He noticed the key. “Where is she?” he asked, fiddling with it. The key twisted as he fiddled, locking the door.
“Oh my,” whispered Shanks. “This will be even easier than I thought.”
Milo came closer to the dollhouse, peering through the windows. “Shanks. I’d like a word.”
Behind him, Glen turned the key in the other direction, and opened the door.
Shanks shoved Amber away, and ran for the stairs.
Amber toppled, still woozy from the kick to the head. She looked down through the banisters, saw Shanks sprinting for the front door. He vanished right before he hit it and she snapped her head up—
—as he smashed into Glen, throwing him violently off his feet, then rebounded, went stumbling towards Milo as Milo turned. As the door slammed shut behind him, Shanks hit Milo with a wild swing boosted by his momentum, and Milo twisted and went down. Shanks got his feet under him, looked around and then through the dollhouse window, and a smile broke across his features.
Amber stood up, fresh terror mounting.
She heard footsteps, running footsteps from beyond the closed door.
“Get out of there!” came Heather’s voice.
Shanks’s face took on an expression of pure joy, and he darted behind the door.
“Heather, no!” Amber screamed, stumbling to the window. “Don’t come in!”
Heather didn’t hear her. She threw the door open and ran in and Shanks grabbed her, pushed her back against the wall and plunged his knife into her and Amber went cold.
Heather stared into Shanks’s eyes, her mouth open, but no sound coming out.
“I told you,” Shanks snarled as he dragged the blade across her belly. “I told you I’d kill you, you interfering little bitch.”
He gave the knife another twist and Heather made a sound halfway between a sigh and a gag, and then a series of explosions filled Amber’s ears. Shanks went stumbling, letting Heather fall as he scrambled out of the door. A moment later, Milo rose into view, his gun in his hand.
He helped Glen back to his feet, then tore the jacket off him. He crouched by Heather, pressing the jacket against her wound. “Keep applying pressure,” he said. “Glen! Call an ambulance!”
Heather grabbed his arm. “Stop Shanks,” she said, her voice weak. “Stop him.”
Milo hesitated, then stood. “Glen, stay with her. When help comes, find Amber.”
Then he was gone.
AMBER RAN FOR THE banister, leaped over it, and dropped to the floor below. The impact juddered from her feet to her hips, but she sprang for the white door the way Shanks had … and smashed straight into it.
She staggered back, landed on her ass.
She got up, hurried to the closest window. From there, she could see the huge figure of Glen pressing his jacket against Heather’s wound as he talked on the phone, giving the address. There was blood everywhere. Amber looked past them, to the door, to the brass key still in the lock.
“Glen!” she yelled.
Glen looked around. “Amber?”
“Glen!”
He took Heather’s hands, laid them on the jacket. “Hold this,” he said, and hurried over, checking the windows. “Amber! You in there?”
She waved until she caught his attention. His face filled the window.
“Amber! You’re red again!”
She stopped waving. “I’m also trapped in here.”
“Yes,” Glen said quickly. “Of course. How do I get you back to normal size?”
“The
