But the harder she ran, the farther the shimmering court retreated. The golden hall became a pinpoint of light beyond a corridor that stretched into infinity. Winded, Emma braced her hands on her knees. The passageway did not want her to get to the golden hall, that much was clear. What, then, did it want? When Emma raised her head, the answer seemed to be looking straight at her. The single door she had seen in the cobwebbed corridor was right before her, as though daring her to open it. Squat, carved with fanciful figures of beasts and people, knobbed with a handle of raw crystal.
Emma turned the handle cautiously. The chamber beyond was octagonal, lit by a strange cold light. Five plinths stood at its center, holding five glinting objects. But there was nothing else. The room did not lead deeper into the Court, where she might overhear useful information. She shut the door. Luckily, there were suddenly more to try; they now stretched down the cobwebbed passage.
Emma tried one on the opposite side. Impossibly, it, too, opened on the octagonal room. Emma huffed out a breath, half grump, half laugh. Stubbornly, she reached for the next door, and the next. The octagonal room looked back at her every time. The corridor clearly had an opinion. In some ways, she was glad of the game. Grateful for the bite of her frustration. It kept the cold, oily well of fear tamped down far enough to ignore it.
“You’re going to keep me here forever, is that it?” Emma tilted her face up to the ceiling. “Really? Until I go mad?”
As if in response, the crystal-knobbed door appeared again on the opposite wall. Suggestively. Emma kept walking. The door kept pace with her, always a step behind.
“It’s not a choice if you’re not given any other options,” she complained to the air.
The door slowed, almost hopefully, as her steps did.
“Fine,” she muttered. “If you insist.”
The crystal knob gleamed under her hand. As Emma stepped into the clear, strange light of the octagonal room, her skin puckered with shivers. She edged toward the pedestals and their tiny glittering objects. Perhaps there was a key there, one that would let her leave the endless loop of corridor and doors, and she was meant to find it.
Something crunched underfoot. Emma felt her muscles clench.Just a chip of stone,she told herself.See how old this room is? Crumbling at the edges, ancient mortar. A chip of stone, or an old twig, or—
It was a bone, cracked under the Sister’s borrowed boot. Emma’s eyes followed it. A slant-jawed skeleton yawned from the wall behind. The bones were bleached with age; whoever it was had been slumped against the wall for some centuries. Emma backed away blindly, groping for the door. It had disappeared. There was no way out. It was too cruel. She had been lured here, just to be buried alive.
“Mind yourself,” said a voice. It was a scratchy sort of croak, and when Emma whirled to face it, she found a figure with an appearance to match.
It was a wizened creature as tall as her waist, with skin in tones of mushroom and moss. Its fingers were long and seemed to have a few too many joints. Her eyes lingered on the needle-sharp nails, the same length again as those fingers. The creature fanned these as it spoke, running them like little flaying knives across the skin of the air.
“So, there you are.” Slightly-too-large black eyes gleamed up at Emma. “Took you long enough.”
Emma squared up to it. “I’m not going to just let you kill me.” Despite her best efforts, her voice was shaking. “So, it’s in your best interest to make a deal with me.”
“Kill you?” The creature tilted its head. A membrane snapped across its eyes and away again. It seemed to be blinking. Like a snake, or a bird of prey, Emma thought. “That is not my purpose.”
“Your purpose?”
“This little once-a-mortal made a bargain with the Night City. And for bargain made must price be paid,” the creature said in a singsong croak.
“I didn’t make one,” Emma protested. “It was an accident, I didn’t mean to—”
“All who enter have made a bargain. Their own words, of their own free will. The Room of Choosing would not have admitted you otherwise. Let us see what this little one has asked for.”
Emma went still. Razor-sharp nails roved over her skin, close enough to slash.
“You were running,” the creature said. “Hunters in the night. Help, you cried out.”
The memory formed around her. The air was ice. There was blood in her mouth.
“help,” she cried out, but her breath was gone and her voice would not come
they are hunting
please oh please help
help me run help me hide
they are hunting the fox i am the fox
“There, little once-a-mortal. You see? Your bargain. An unusual one, indeed.”
“That?Thatwas my bargain? But I never asked—I didn’t know—”
