Kelly Mendig - Three Days to Dead

“Where will we come out?” I asked.

“The northernmost outskirts of the city, in what you call Mercy’s Lot. The Earth Guardians will be watching, though there’s little they can do to interfere.” His tiny eyes flickered back and forth between us. “You young ones shine like the sun itself. You have old souls, and I hope they’ll soon find the peace they seek.”

He reached out his small hand and I took it. Expecting a handshake, I instead received a hard object. I palmed it, and examined it. A sliver of crystal, the length and width of my index finger, its sides rounded and perfectly smooth and peaked to a single point.

“A gift,” he said, “from the Apothi. It’s not enough for the suffering I have caused you.”

“You?” I asked.

Thin lips pursed. “Knowledge of healing magic is Gifted only to my people. Tovin took me for a fool once. It was I, Evangeline, who helped him add your regenerative powers to the resurrection spell. He said you needed the advantage in order to fulfill your destined task. I know now he meant only to prevent you from dying before his plan was enabled. I’m so sorry.”

I stared at the little man in front of me, so small and yet reeking of power—a different sort than I felt while around Amalie, but still present. He was the only gnome I’d had a real conversation with, and I found myself hoping we’d meet again.

“You’ve still given me a gift,” I said. “Your regenerative powers have helped me survive this long when I should have died multiple times. I do still have a task ahead of me. But thank you for this second gift.” I slipped the crystal spike into the back pocket of my jeans. “May I ask—?”

“When the time comes, you’ll know how to use it. Go on careful feet, and may the ancestors keep watch over your journey.”

I didn’t know if he meant his ancestors or mine, so I merely nodded and ducked through the doorway. Unlike the others, this door did not lead into a room, just a tiny space, no larger than a coat closet, with three potential corridors. I started down the farthest to the left, led by more glowing spheres, placed every ten feet and roughly the size of lemons. It was dim, but enough to see by.

Wyatt followed, keeping a distance of several feet. We didn’t speak for the first leg of the journey. My thoughts consumed me. Training told me to never walk into a situation I couldn’t walk out of again—exactly what we were doing. We had no plan of action beyond contacting Rufus, who may or may not be able to provide Triad assistance. If not, we were up shit creek without a boat, never mind a paddle. None of the other species would help us without proof.

Yet another great difference between humans and the majority of Dregs—a complete lack of, or simple inability to use, imagination. The very fact that Tovin had orchestrated our steps up until that very moment, that he had every piece in place to summon a Tainted into Wyatt’s body, would not sway them. They judged on action, not intention. Until Wyatt was actually demon-possessed, our chances of persuading them to assist us were less than zero.

The Bloods were the only wild card in the deck. Istral and Isleen had already acted on their suspicions about the goblins, which meant they were on the list for proactive potential. But I hadn’t spoken with Isleen long enough to know her intentions, and her people likely held me responsible for her death. Still, if we could contact the heads of the Blood Families—

“Penny for your thoughts?” Wyatt’s voice bounced through the narrow tunnel.

“It’ll cost you at least a dollar,” I replied.

“Got change for a twenty?”

I smiled. The tunnel bent sharply to the right—our assigned direction. I almost missed a left-bearing junction, its entrance less than half the height of the tunnel. The floor was rougher, the walls spotted with roots and loose dirt.

“Must be the split that Horzt mentioned,” Wyatt said.

“Looks like. Where do you think it goes?”

“Somewhere else in the city.”

“Duh.” I crouched in front of the rougher entrance, intrigued by its age and the faint breeze trickling out.

“Evy, come on.”

I looked at him over my shoulder and winked. “It’s the path apparently never taken, Wyatt. Where’s your sense of adventure?”

“Hiding behind my free will.”

I wasn’t serious about exploring the rocky tunnel and only meant to tease, but his comment startled me. I stood up, heat in my cheeks and hands on my hips, and managed to scrape both elbows on the rocky wall. Ignoring the pain, I glared at him. It was rendered somewhat ineffective by the near-dark.

“What the hell, Wyatt?”

“What? I don’t think we should go exploring a strange tunnel when Horzt told us to go this way.” He jacked his thumb down the right curve.

I didn’t particularly want to, either, but that was no longer the point. “You used to trust my instincts.”

“I still do, Evy. I just don’t trust mine.”

“Since when?”

“Since now. Since all of this.”

“I still trust you.”

“How the hell can you? Everything happening now is because of me. You’re in Hell again when you should be at peace, making choices no one should have to make, because I let someone manipulate my emotions. I did this to you. How can you trust me?”

Shadows darkened his face, making it nearly impossible to read. Only his eyes sparkled brightly. I reached out, but he shied away from my touch. The simple action, more than any of his words, hurt.

“Accepting responsibility and casting blame aren’t the same things, Wyatt. I know why this is happening, and I know who’s responsible, but that doesn’t mean I blame you, because I don’t. Blaming you won’t change it, won’t find a solution, and it won’t make me feel better.” I poked him hard in the chest. “And I will not let you use my imaginary blame as an excuse for your own self-hatred. You were made a fool of and there’s no changing that, so get the hell over it.”

“Get over it?” The dug walls vibrated under the force of his angry tenor. “You aren’t the one being prepped to host an ancient demon, Evy.”

“No, I was the one brought back from the dead to relay important information I don’t fucking have.” Another circular argument, getting us nowhere. “Can we please stop playing Who Got the Worse Deal? Our primary goal has not changed, and that is stopping Tovin before he can bring something across First Break. The rest of our personal bullshit can wait.”

“For when, exactly? The day after tomorrow?”

“If I have anything to say about it, yes.”

He frowned, glittering eyes searching my face. “Don’t tell me you believe in a happy ending now?”

“I believe that the next twenty hours are still mine to do with as I wish. Am I prepared to die again to stop Tovin? Yes. Would I rather find a loophole that lets both of us live? Most definitely yes. Until I am faced with death or a demon, I’m going to keep looking for that loophole. How about you?”

His hand slipped around my waist, and I pressed close, my arms encircling his neck. I received his answer in that hug. It offered the promise of hope. And, in the face of impending death, a promise was better than nothing.

**;*

The tunnel narrowed after thirty more yards. We were reduced to crawling on our hands and knees over packed dirt and the occasional exposed root or rock. I cut my palms several times, but the pain was refreshing, almost invigorating. It marked our progress.

After what felt like a mile, the glowing orbs disappeared. Caught in pitch black, we slowed even more. I swept my hand in front of my face before each step, imagining all sorts of creepy things ahead—spiderwebs or worse. But beyond dirt and more dirt, the tunnel remained empty.