The Hollow Read Online Free Page B

direction to try next.
    As he approached the Square, he saw Layla come out of Ma’s Pantry across the street, carrying a plastic bag. She hesitated when she spotted him, and that planted a sharp seed of irritation in his gut. After she sent him a casual wave, they walked to the light at the Square on opposite sides of the street.
    It might have been that irritation, or the frustration of trying to decide to do what would be natural for him—to wait on his side of the corner for her to cross and speak to her. Or to do what he felt, even with the distance, she’d prefer. For him to simply keep going up Main so they didn’t intersect. Either way, he was nearly at the corner when he felt the fear—sudden and bright. It stopped him in his tracks, had his head jerking up.
    There, on the wires crossing above Main and Locust, were the crows.
    Dozens of them crowded together in absolute stillness along the thin wire. Hulking there, wings tucked and—he knew—watching. When he glanced across the street, he saw that Layla had seen them, too, either sensing them herself or following the direction of his stare.
    He didn’t run, though there was an urgent need to do just that. Instead he walked in long, brisk strides across the street to where she stood gripping her white plastic bag.
    â€œThey’re real.” She only whispered it. “I thought, at first, they were just another . . . but they’re real.”
    â€œYeah.” He took her arm. “We’re going inside. We’re going to turn around, and get inside. Then—”
    He broke off as he heard the first stir behind him, just a flutter on the air. And in her eyes, wide now, huge now, he saw it was too late.
    The rush of wings was a tornado of sound and speed. Fox shoved her back against the building, and down. Pushing her face against his chest, he wrapped his arms around her and used his body to shield hers.
    Glass shattered beside him, behind him. Brakes squealed through the crash and thuds of metal. He heard screams, rushing feet, felt the jarring force as birds thumped into his back, the quick sting as beaks stabbed and tore. He knew the rough, wet sounds were those flying bodies smashing into walls and windows, falling lifeless to street and sidewalk.
    It was over quickly, in no more than a minute. A child shrieked, over and over—one long, sharp note after another. “Stay here.” A little out of breath, he leaned back so that Layla could see his face. “Stay right here.”
    â€œYou’re bleeding. Fox—”
    â€œJust stay here.”
    He shoved to his feet. In the intersection three cars were slammed together. Spiderwebs cracked the safety glass of windshields where the birds had flown into them. Crunched bumpers, he noted as he rushed toward the accident, shaken nerves, dented fenders.
    It could have been much worse.
    â€œEverybody all right?”
    He didn’t listen to the words: Did you see that? They flew right into my car! Instead he listened with his senses. Bumps and bruises, frayed nerves, minor cuts, but no serious injuries. He left others to sort things out, turned back to Layla.
    She stood with a group of people who’d poured out of Ma’s Pantry and the businesses on either side. “The damnedest thing,” Meg, the counter cook at Ma’s, said as she stared at the shattered glass of the little restaurant. “The damnedest thing.”
    Because he’d seen it all before, and much, much worse, Fox grabbed Layla’s hand. “Let’s go.”
    â€œShouldn’t we do something?”
    â€œThere’s nothing to do. I’m getting you home, then we’ll call Cal and Gage.”
    â€œYour hand.” Her voice was awe and nerves. “The back of your hand’s already healing.”
    â€œPart of the perks,” he said grimly, and pulled her back across Main.
    â€œI don’t have that perk.” She spoke quietly and