The Shadow Crosser (The Storm Runner 3)

She gave a quick nod.

“Fine,” I muttered. “Big chicken.”

There was no door to knock on—just an open entrance. “Hello?” I said.

Rosie whined as I stepped inside. The room was hot with thick, humid air that burned my nose and pressed in on me from all sides. There were rows and rows of tables where leafy green plants sprouted from pots. Pink-and-yellow-and-purple-flowering vines spilled over their containers’ edges, dropping to the dirt floor.

“Do not step on the vines!” came a man’s voice.

My eyes darted around and I saw the top of a bald head peek out from behind some plants. It headed my way.

I stepped back, looking over my shoulder for the exit, just in case. The entrance I’d come in was gone—as in no más!—replaced by another orange glass wall.

A man about the size of yesterday’s air spirit rounded the table and came into full view. He had a dirty handkerchief in one hand and a trowel in the other. His eyes were the deepest brown I’d ever seen, and his skin was the color of wet sand. Wiping his tool on pants that for sure looked like they were made out of dried grass, he asked, “Who are you? What do you want? Didn’t you see the No Trespassing signs?”

“Uh—no,” I said, side-glaring at Rosie. No chicken necks for her for a year!

The little dude harrumphed. “Did Aapo send you?”

“Aapo?”

“Don’t act all innocent,” he said. “You look like the kind of spy my sister might hire—tall, young, and awkward. Well, guess what? Tell her she can’t have it.” He shook his head and said, more to himself than to me, “No, that won’t do. I need to send a powerful message to her, to get through her thick skull.” He flicked his eyes to mine. “I could take one of your fingers, send it to her in a box. She hates extremities.”

My stomach bottomed out.

He wiggled his thinning brows like dismemberment was the best idea he’d had all day. “So, what’ll it be? Thumb, or pointer?”

“I’m not a spy!” My heart began to punch its way out of my chest. “I’m sorry, sir, but my dog…she led me here.”

Rosie sniffed the air and sat on her haunches all casual like, as if the guy hadn’t just threatened to cut off one of my fingers. Some protector she was.

The guy’s gaze fell on Rosie like he was noticing her for the first time.

“That’s no dog,” the guy said, rubbing his head while he stuck out his neck to get a better look. “Which means you can’t be working for Aapo, because no hellhound would go near her.” His shoulders seemed to relax. “Does your beast like snake heads? I have a tub of them in the back corner.”

Of course you do.

My insides clenched, but Rosie’s ears perked up and her mouth started to drool. She took off in the direction he’d pointed. She really needed a leash!

I just stood there, drumming Fuego on the ground. Was I supposed to make small talk? Smell the flowers? Beg to keep my fingers?

The guy sneezed, then wiped his reddish nose with the handkerchief. “Imagine an earth spirit having allergies! The universe has the worst sense of humor.”

Earth spirit? Was this who the Red Queen had wanted me to find? It had to be! But then I remembered what the air spirit had said yesterday: Can’t trust earth or mountain spirits. Maybe I could get to know him a little before I decided whom to trust. “I’m Zane. And you are?”

“I already told you, I’m an earth spirit.”

Okay, next question. “So, you grow all this?”

“What do you mean this?” The guy flung his trowel away like he wanted to fight me or something. “I am sure you mean do I grow magical, amazing, out of the ordinary, mind-blowing creations like never seen before?”

He narrowed his eyes and drew closer. Then, with a sniff, he threw some pea-green dust into my face.

The foul-smelling stuff flew up my nose, sending me into a coughing and wheezing fit that lasted about ten seconds until I finally inhaled a clean breath.

Ah, oxygen. So underrated.

I gripped Fuego, ready to take on this earth spirit, but as soon as I exhaled, I started to giggle. Before I could stop myself, more giggles erupted, and pretty soon I had dropped my cane and was rolling on the floor laughing at absolutely nothing.