It would only mean a faster death.
She would have to find another way.
“I’ll pay you,” Corinthe blurted out.
He froze. She had said the magic words. Gnomes were infamous barterers.
The gnome frowned, wiped his nose on his sleeve again, and lowered the knife. “Pay?”
She held up both hands, to show him she didn’t intend to fight. “Yes. I’ll make you a deal.”
“What you have I want?” The gnome scowled.
The only thing truly valuable that she had was the locket, which she needed to find her way home. If she couldn’t get to the Crossroad, though, she would never execute Luc’s fate.
And she’d be trapped here until she died.
Something else. She had to have something else.
“My shoes!” It occurred to her as she watched the gnome prance back and forth on his bare feet. “Your feet must be all cut up. A nice pair of shoes would keep them safe.”
He seemed to consider it. He rocked up onto his toes. “And?”
Corinthe licked her lips. They were parched. “They come from Humana. But they’re not just ordinary boots. They are made of the thick skin of a magical earthly animal. They will make you run quicker than you can dream.”
The gnome’s eyes flashed hungrily. “And what? What else more?”
“I have nothing else,” she said. She was losing patience. How long would the venom take to work in her blood? One day? Two? Corinthe thought of dying here, trapped underground as the venom coursed through her veins. If she could perform her last task as an Executor, she could return home—and once she was restored as an immortal Fate, none of this would matter.
Except Luc would be dead.
Beatis grunted and shook his head. “More.”
She was glad that the locket was hanging safely around her neck, concealed beneath her jacket. “You took my blood. I’d say that’s a fair deal already. You take my shoes, and you get me to a gateway.”
“I can wait until you die. Then have shoes for me,” he said, grinning.
“You could. But you have to sleep sometime. And when you do, I’ll kill you.” She said the words neutrally, hoping the fact that she was an Executor would give weight to her threat; the gnome couldn’t know how weak she felt.
The gnome spat on the dirt floor. “Deal,” he finally said. “Magic shoes for the Crossroad. You promise now. Mine, mine, mine.”
Corinthe unlaced her leather boots quickly. The floor was damp, and cold seeped through her thin socks. The gnome grabbed the shoes and sat down heavily. After shoving his dirty feet into her boots, he tugged at the laces, growled again, then wiggled his long, gnarled toes inside the front of the boot.
When he stood, Corinthe almost laughed. The boots covered the entire length of his legs and gaped open, practically falling off every time he tried to take a step. She helped him work the laces, earning her a grunt of approval.
“So.” Corinthe stood again—as much as she could stand, without cracking her head. “Where is it?”
The gnome waddled clumsily to the corner, his steps thumping on the packed earth. Corinthe looked up at the opening in the ceiling and wondered how on earth he had managed to pull her through it. Before she could ask, he shoved aside one of the cabinets to reveal a much larger tunnel.
She peeked inside, but it was too dark to see more than a few feet of sloped earth. The tunnel smelled like musty, dank ground.
“I’ll follow you,” she said. Gnomes weren’t known for being entirely trustworthy, and for all she knew, the tunnel led to some kind of trap.
He pulled an oil lantern off the shelf and lit the wick; the smell of sulfur tickled her nose. He walked upright into the passageway, but Corinthe had to crawl on her hands and knees. Beatis turned around to glare at her periodically and urge her to go faster. After a few feet, the tunnel began to slope upward. The small lantern illuminated nothing more than his flickering outline and the tangle of roots above their heads. Corinthe could hear a soft gurgling sound, almost like a fountain.
Then she remembered where she was. Her stomach twisted. It was blood. She was listening to the trees feed. The air hung thicker here. Heavy. It was hard to breathe. The tunnel grew narrower, and roots raked fingers through her hair, dragged across her bare arms. She felt the shift, the flood of excitement that rippled through the ground. The walls of the passageway shuddered, and dirt showered down on her head.
“Hurry,” Beatis wheezed. “They find you. The trees be hungry.” Beatis scampered ahead and was soon lost in the darkness.
Terror shot through her. Dirt continued to rain down on her head. The roots continued to reach for her, pull at her, trying to consume and drain her. She tried to call out, but she could barely draw breath. The earth around her was closing in, burying her.
Stars exploded behind her eyes, and strangely, it made her think about the sky over the San Francisco Bay. About standing with Lucas. About the heat that raced through her blood when he had touched her.
Enough, she told herself. Wherever he was, she would find him and kill him. There was no choice, only destiny.
Her legs were completely encased in dirt. She couldn’t crawl any farther. Beatis’s light had disappeared. More dirt drove down on her shoulders, pushed her head down until she lay with one cheek against the ground.
The earth pulsed like a heartbeat. She reached out one hand, desperately clawing for help that wasn’t there.
And then, even as she cursed herself for trusting a gnome, she felt a rough hand close around hers. Beatis pulled her, loosening her from the earthen coffin with surprising strength.
Fresh air filled her lungs. Dirt fell away from her legs and she pushed to her knees, let go of Beatis, and threw herself at the light. She rolled a few feet down a small incline and landed on her back, gasping for breath.
The trees around them hissed softly, as though disappointed. She wondered how long it would be before they raised the alarm. Gave her away.
“Hurry, we must go fast,” the gnome said.
He didn’t wait to see if Corinthe followed; he just took off down a path that cut through the trees. She stumbled after him. Hard thorns bit into her feet. Finally, the trees thinned, and then in one step, she was clear of the forest.
Twenty feet in front of her, a thick wall of mist rose to the sky. It was as if the forest simply ceased to exist right at this spot. Cool tendrils of fog snaked across the ground.
“Where is it?” she asked. There were burrs stuck to the soft soles of her feet. No wonder the gnome had taken the shoes.
Beatis spun in a full circle. “Left or right, right or left … ,” he chanted.
Then she heard it: the high-pitched whine of the Blood Nymphs.
Not again.
Panic prickled at her skin like thousands of tiny needles. Branches clacked together behind her, gnashing like enormous teeth.
The gnome took a step back. “Deal be done.” He grinned. “Venom be poison in your blood. Feed on you till you die. I still win.”
“Where?” she repeated, lunging for him. He skidded to the left and Corinthe stumbled past him, already woozy from the venom. She spun around and tried lunging at him again, but she tripped over a tree root and landed hard on her hands and knees. The locket spilled out from under her shirt and the clasp came undone. The lid opened and the clearing filled with the tinny lullaby. The gnome froze on the edge of the clearing. The Nymphs quieted. Listened. Corinthe held her breath as the ballerina pirouetted slowly.
The gnome watched the ballerina with feverish excitement. Saliva ran down his chin and dripped onto the ground.
“You say you have nothing else!” he whined, taking a step closer.
A wave of dizziness forced her to take several deep breaths. It had to be the venom, working in her blood again. Could the gnome have been wrong? What if she didn’t have two or three days?