"It enabled me to listen, to track, and, if needed, to transmit." He stood, stretching his tall frame.
"Why keep the dish away from the castle?" I pulled on panties under the T-shirt.
He watched avidly. "Enemies can use transmissions to triangulate positions."
"Can you track Fortune's next helicopter?" I tugged on my jeans.
He canted his head at my movements, absently saying, "I could have, but the dish will no longer work without certain parts."
"What do you mean?"
"I checked it while you slept. The hail battered it almost beyond salvage."
"You aren't angry?"
He grasped my hand and pressed a kiss to my wrist. "For some reason, I'm in a fantastic mood. The best of my entire life."
My cheeks heated.
Releasing me, he crossed to his things. "We'll have to rely on this." From his saddlebag he produced what looked like a cordless phone with a thick antenna.
"Is that a satellite phone?" Brand's dad had had one for his yacht. Jack's dad as well. Tighten . . . "Are satellites still in space anymore?"
"I believe they remain untouched."
"But what about the Flash? The solar flare?"
"After last night's storm, I wonder if the Flash came from outside the planet at all."
"I don't follow."
He sat, pulling me into his lap. "What if the entire earth is Tar Ro, the gods' sacred arena? What if they're controlling everything within? Even down to a storm to warn Death and Life never to unite."
"What will happen now that we have?" Can't lose him!
Full arrogance on display, he said, "Nothing. I refuse to give you up. After all we've been through to get to this point, we deserve each other." Seeing my worried expression, he said, "I'll sell my soul if I have to."
I let the subject go for now--the horse was out of the barn on this score--but I decided he would wear his armor whenever he went outside. And that he could never leave the castle without me. "Do you think the gods would purposely ruin their Tar Ro arena with an apocalypse?"
He shrugged. "Perhaps this is the game of all games, with a field of battle to match. Or perhaps they are punishing our abuse of the planet."
Either way, they still sounded like dicks. "Who would you call on that phone, anyway?"
"The Centurion. Kentarch might be the game changer for us."
Like I'd thought Tess would be. But the carousel couldn't be reversed. The game continued. I'd desperately wanted to stop it. Now that felt more impossible than ever.
My three current missions: to make Aric happy, to ensure we had no regrets when we died, and to kill Richter. I vowed I would complete all three. "Circe said he's searching for his wife."
"He was the last time we talked. They got separated."
"How would Kentarch change the game?"
"His powers could help us defeat the Emperor. When the Centurion's intangible, nothing can stop him, not a wall of steel, not a volcanic eruption. Unfortunately, Kentarch hasn't answered the last few times I've called. I thought it might be the signal from the castle, but it's not."
The castle. Returning to it. Soon I'd have to see my grandmother again. The thought made me queasy.
Aric noticed. "What's wrong?"
Real life kept intruding on our honeymoon. "I wish we could just stay here, hit the pause button, and forget about the game. Forget about my grandmother. I dread going back to see her, and that fills me with guilt."
"I can't imagine how difficult that must be, but you won't have to endure it alone." Cupping my face, he said, "You're my wife. We are united in all things. Any burden you carry, I carry as well."
I gave him a shaky nod. I'd been longing for someone to trust, to have my back--but I hadn't realized until now how close I'd come to shattering from everything. "Then we should get on the road." I stood to finish dressing.
"Very well." He hesitated, frowning at his armor. Tailored to fit him, it wasn't much thicker than a suit of cloth, the mysterious black metal nearly as lightweight. He moved in it fluidly, and silently. Understandable, since the armor might've been designed by a death deity.
"Why the frown?"
"On our return, I want you to ride with me. And I hate that this metal will be between us."
I shook my head hard. "Uh-uh. I want you protected--for as many hours a day as possible."
My vehemence seemed to take him off guard. He raised his brows. "As my lady wishes."
"I'm serious, Aric."
In a contemplative tone, he said, "This is the first time anyone's ever wanted Death in his armor."
38
Aric and I rode back together, with me in front, his arms wrapped around my waist. He'd removed his helmet halfway to the castle, though he kept it close, telling me, "I could don it more quickly than any enemy could strike."
Like the rest of his armor, his black helmet was incredibly lightweight--and intimidating. I'd asked, "Is it such a hardship to wear it?"
"Indeed," he'd answered, then he'd demonstrated why. Throughout the journey, he would kiss me, or inhale the scent of my hair, or simply tuck my head under his chin.
I hadn't wanted to have our first married fight so soon--but I was going to lay down the armor law soon. . . .
Every mile closer to the castle unsettled me more. I'd been away from Gran all day, the longest since she'd gotten here.
At what would have been dusk, we arrived at the river. Circe parted the waters with a sighed, "Death and Life. Finally."
When he and I walked inside the castle hand in hand, a tiny coyote pup chased a gangly heron through the foyer; some kind of half-grown turkey perched on the banister, ruffling its wings as if it wanted to try flying. Cyclops lay with all his legs splayed, looking like a breathing rug. I could see him shedding his frizzy fur.
Oh, hell. I glanced up at Aric, but he merely shrugged. "You aren't mad?"
He tucked my hair behind my ear, repeating, "I'm in a fantastic mood."
I went up on my toes to give him a quick kiss, which swiftly turned heated. But I forced myself to draw back. I couldn't put off my visit much longer. "I need to go talk to her."
He exhaled. "You're right." Then he cocked his head. "Sieva, her time is ending. Today."
Why didn't his words make me feel . . . more?
Brows drawn, he asked, "Can I go in with you?"
I bit my lip. "She wouldn't like that."
"Then I will be right outside her room."
Paul met us in the hall. He looked exhausted, must've been up all night with her. Add more guilt to the mountain of it.
He'd spent countless hours taking care of her, cooped up in that room. "I'm glad you're back, Evie. You should go in and say good-bye."
"Thank you for staying with her." What would we do without him?
"Of course." With a respectful nod at Aric, he left.
I knocked on Gran's door and opened it, but I gazed back. Aric had taken a seat in the hall, his eyes promising me, Not going anywhere.
Inside, I called, "Gran?"
She was barely holding on, her chest rising and falling with labored breaths. She held the chronicles in her arms, embracing them like a child.
A bout of dizziness hit me, and I was taken right back to that morning at Haven, when I'd first seen Mom after she'd died.
Two tears spilled down my cheeks. I kept waiting for grief to swamp me, but it didn't.
Gran cracked open her eyes. "A rat, Evie," she murmured. "A rat on my table . . . gnaws the threads . . . the salamander stares at me from the shadows . . . the serpent coils around the tree . . . and chokes its roots."
How had she gotten so much worse in such a short time? "It's okay, Gran." I pulled up a chair beside her bed.
Her gaze darted. "Spite couldn't spit . . . and the Devil knew his verses. The cups see the future . . . in a chalice of blood." She was rambling more than ever. "Only you can bring us back. You must win . . . the earth depends on it. Cards know it . . . beware the Fool . . . dark dealings. The
dark calling, the calling dark."
This was new. When she started on another rant, I touched her arm. "What about the Fool?"
"The wild card! The game keeper." She reached for my hand, digging her yellowed nails into it. "You have to kill Death. He will turn on you--they all will. Death is poisoning me!"
I pulled free of her. "No, Gran, he's not."
"He's murdering your last blood relative. A rat! The agent of Death. A salamander. Noon serpents in the shadow. Midnight takes my life!" She was getting infuriated with me, even now.
I reached for the chronicles, but she hugged the book closer. "I could read them to you, Gran."
She hesitated, then relaxed her grip.
I slid the heavy book onto my lap and opened the cover, that familiar smell wafting up. Ages seemed to have passed since I'd read and illustrated these pages.
I began to read to her: "What followeth is the trew and sworne chronikles of Our Lady of Thorns, the Emperice of all Arcana, chosen to represent Demeter and Aphrodite, embody'g life, all its cycles, and the myst'ries of love. . . ."
For hours, I read, and the words seemed to soothe her. Her eyes closed, and she lost herself in tales of murder and betrayal.
When I recounted the Empress's "most glorious victories," Gran's lips would curve and her thin fingers would clench.
I read until her chest no longer rose and fell. My grandmother was at peace.
For some reason, I turned to the last page. Gran had updated the chronicles. The first entry:
The cunning Empress has beguiled Death, until all he can see is her. He reunites an Arcana with her Tarasova, courting his own destruction.
Another entry:
They are murdering me, but the Empress turns a blind eye. Though they have tricked her, I see clearly. She won't do what's necessary, so I have put the end into motion.
She can never be with him. She has no idea what Life and Death become. . . .
What had she meant by that? And what "necessary" thing had she put into motion? The last few lines were barely legible, her handwriting declining as much as her mental state: I left you clues, Evie. Nothing is as it seems. Midnight serpents choke the roots. The Agent. The ro--
She'd never finished the last word. Mad ramblings? Or a legitimate warning in code? Filled with unease, I closed the book and laid it under her hands.
Aric entered, his concerned gaze flickering over my face before he wrapped me in his strong arms.
My grandmother had wanted me to murder this man.
He pressed a kiss against my forehead. "Come." He ushered me out of the room and back to his study. This time he poured two shots of vodka; we each knocked one back. I grimaced at the burn. He poured again. Another down the hatch.
He guided me to the couch, pulling me across his lap, my head against his warm chest. "Talk to me."
"She wrote worrying things in the back of the chronicles." I told him the gist. "Do you think she could've done anything to hurt the people here?"
"There's very little that's vulnerable," he assured me.
"I feel guilty--because I don't grieve her enough. What if my grief is broken?"
"It's not, sieva. I suspect you might be in shock. I can't think of another person who has lost as much as you have in such a short span. In just four hundred days or so."
"I figured out that I would have attended a funeral about every month," I said. "I know I should have been with her more at the end, but I wouldn't change last night."
He rubbed my back with a big palm. "Try to recall your good memories of her."
I would. I wished these last few weeks would fade to a blur--compared to memories of her laughter as we played hide-and-seek in the cane.
"What do we do now?" I asked, my voice sounding lost.
"You will pick a place on the mountain, and we will have a funeral for her in the morning."
I sat up to face him. "Bury her here? At your home? But she was awful to you."
His brows drew together. "At our home. Where my wife's grandmother belongs." God, he was a wonderful man to overlook all the things she'd said about him.
Which reminded me . . . "When you went hat in hand to her that night, what did you ask?"
He hesitated.
"Tell me."
"I sought her for two reasons: to give her my vow that you would be protected for as long as I lived." Oh, Aric. "And to ask if she sensed this game was . . . different. Because I had."
"How so?" I quickly asked, "Do you think it can be stopped?" When would I accept reality?
He shook his head. "I believe I sensed this"--he gestured from me to him--"our upcoming union. The marriage of Life and Death."
The marriage that felt forbidden on every level. "What did Gran say?"
"She said this game was somehow different. But one aspect would always remain the same." He pulled me back against his chest. "Only one can win."
39
The Hunter
Closer still . . .
"Climb," Matthew said, pointing to the top of a rise. "If you want to see her."
Though we couldn't be far from Fort Arcana, he'd insisted on stopping here. I figured this peak must be where Evie had radioed me the last time we'd spoken.
Her roses covered the face. And they were still alive.
When we'd first gotten here, I'd said, "She must be close! Is she at the fort?" Over all the time I'd spent with the Fool, no amount of threats or coaxing could make him come off her current whereabouts.
"Some time ago," he'd answered. "No longer."
So how had her flowers lived since then? I couldn't imagine the power she must've used creating so many. It was almost as if she'd left part of her ability here as a generator.
I swiped rain from my face. Even in the dusky light, the bright red and green were stark against the ash. "If I get myself up to the top, you'll finally tell me how to reach her?"
"Gaze out from the peak. Get a new viewpoint." Then he started fiddling with his bug-out bag, ignoring me.
I wore my brace, was still limping with my crutch, muscles weak. But you better believe I would push my body and my leg to scale this mountain. In a worsening storm.
'Cause I was desperate to get to my girl.
I hooked my crutch under my pack to free up both hands, then set to climbing. Soon sweat mixed with rain, dripping in my eyes. Each time that brace pressed on my wound, pain sang through me, but I white-knuckled my way upward.
When I reached the top, I lurched, nearly tumbling backward. I yanked my crutch free and steadied myself. Then I gazed out with disbelief. Black rock and roses stretched from this peak all the way to the next.
Just when I had clawed my way back to the land of the living, Matthew had sent me to the valley of the dead.
My gut churned, and I almost threw up.
Unable to stop myself, I started out over the lava rock. Felt like I was stepping on graves in a cemetery.
Then came the scent of . . . honeysuckle? I followed the smell, limping farther across the rock toward the middle of the valley.
Vines began to tangle among the roses, but in the distance was a clearing. I hurried toward it, ignoring the pain in my leg. Within the clearing were two grave sites with epitaphs. One was circled with ivy, the other with blooming honeysuckle.
Evie had created these memorials. I read:
Selena Lua
The Moon
Treasured friend, ally, and guardian.
Loyal and strong to the end.
You will be dearly missed.
To the end. Had Evie known Selena sacrificed herself to save my life? Just like Clotile had done a year ago.
Each day after the apocalypse stretched out like a month of life before it. I felt as if Selena had watched my six and fought beside me--for years. Fitting that her memorial was beside . . . mine.
Jackson Daniel Deveaux
The Hunter
Beloved son, brother, friend, leader,
and intended husband.
&nb
sp; I love you.
I dropped to my knees.
Evie smelled like honeysuckle whenever she was happy with me. She'd wanted it to bloom on my grave forever.
All my life, I'd figured I would die young, buried in a forgotten paupers' cemetery somewhere. I never thought I would have been loved like this. She'd made me sound as if I'd made a difference, as if I'd be missed.
I reached for the stone to trace those treasured words. As soon as I made contact, visions appeared in my head.
From Matthew? The Fool was giving them to me, as he often had with Evie! I saw her in the days after Richter's attack; I heard her thoughts.
In one scene, she was missing an arm, clinging to a tower. Her head whipped up as she lit on the idea of going back in time and saving me. All she had to do was find Tess. Evie's grief transformed into a frantic determination.
More scenes played out. She stole from survivors and abducted another Arcana. She knew she was turning into a black hat, but she was ruthless to get to Tess.
To save me.
She made it to the empty fort. A shell of what it once was. I thought of all the work that had gone into building it--all the blood, sweat, and dreams I'd poured into that place. And I hadn't even been able to provide a light to guide Evie's way inside.
Within those walls, she dug up a grave. Tess's. The girl had tried to reverse time to save us all--and she'd died from it.
Evie appeared to die right with her, rocking the girl's withered corpse. All of Evie's hopes of bringing me back from the dead had been pinned on reaching Tess. . . .
I grazed my fingers over the words on my memorial: I love you. She had been crazed as she carved this rock, this gravestone.
She was broken: Jack and I had marveled at the snow.
The vision faded. I clenched my fists and yelled to the sky. How the fuck could Matthew let her suffer like that? Filled with rage, I staggered back across that rock, then stumbled down the mountain.
He was waiting for me.
I lunged at him. "What the hell you thinking?" My fist shot out, connecting with his mouth.
He went reeling, but struggled back to his feet.
"I should kill you!"
Holding his jaw, he spat blood. "I broke her smile."
I yelled, punching his face again. "Goddamn it, coo-yon! Why?" I barely pulled myself off him.
He gave me a bloody grin. The sosie was back.
Took everything in me not to hit him again. "Why did you want me here? Why?"