Several feet in front of me, a vague column that looked like it was more shadow than substance lunged out into my path.

My first thought was that it was one of Sveta’s arms. It wasn’t. I tried to fly under it, since I was already so close to the ground, and the individual components fanned out to bar my way.

I crashed bodily into them, my shield absorbing the hit, and the impact made them slap against the side of a dumpster in the alleyway. The thing was crude in a made-just-after-the-world-ended kind of way, four pieces of thick metal, welding, and handles for the dump truck. The hit made one of the sides buckle, the weld at the side closest to me splitting violently.

I turned to look the other way, and saw Love Lost with one clawed hand resting on a crouching Nailbiter’s fingers, guiding them. Nailbiter had both hands together, fingers pointed at me, and the fingers were extended out.

Enhanced strength, and the ability to extend any part of her body, making that part rigid and thinner.

She moved her hand, and two fingers pressed me against a wall, needle thin bars against my throat and thighs.

I couldn’t trust that my forcefield would come back in time. My feet were only barely touching the ground, but I could fly. I flew away from her, sliding between the extended digits and the wall.

She increased the pressure, and I had to stop, lest I give myself road rash while scraping against the concrete wall. Another nail-finger shifted position, slapping me across the cheekbone and ear, and pressed my head back.

Her mouth opened. I didn’t see her do anything, but I threw up my shield all the same, the moment I felt it was ready. I pushed out, hard, and the wretch did the same, gripping and pushing the finger bars that had trapped me. A foot from my face, her tongue struck hard against an invisible surface. It would have gone right through me if it had connected.

I moved while I could, between fingers and wall. I could feel here and there where there was a bulge where there had been a knuckle. I could only imagine how it worked when it wasn’t extended fingers, but the rusty nail-teeth. Doing this would have been like running a saw against my throat, face, and thighs.

These two were dangerous. I flew straight up, the moment I was free of the fingers, rounding a corner.

Instincts told me to press forward. I wanted to go after Spright, or remove the threat.

I stopped instead. There was a limit to how fast and how far they could travel. I had a second.