My heart sank.
Fingers prodded my mouth open, pressing down on my tongue with so much force I had thought my jaw would break. The compass shook violently, hidden away in my pocket.
It released me just a few aisles away from the scene, and I scrambled to get away from it, waving its arms off me with heaved breaths. When I caught my breath, I looked for my attacker, only to find receding echoes of a chuckle.
“You’re so much prettier up close.”
My eyes darted around for any trace of that thing. I could sense its eyes on me, hidden somewhere. The panic hadn’t calmed when I realized that the compass didn’t, either.
And then footsteps. I forced myself to run as fast and as quietly as possible to the other end of the aisle, glancing up at the aisle number as I measured his distance from the volume of his steps.
Aisle 980 A.
He’s close.