7
Death
I eased away from my wife’s sleeping embrace, my heart pounding with anticipation.
She had accepted this unshakable bond between us. My thumb spun the new band on my ring finger. She’d taken such care to fashion it. I beheld the craftmanship with immense pride.
Soon we would have a child together. Over these weeks, I hadn’t allowed myself to accept this fully—not until I’d sensed that she had.
All it had taken was my blind trust.
The thought of her feeling trapped was unbearable to me. I knew all too well what that was like. I’d been trapped in this deadly body for two millennia. Confined in my isolating armor.
But with her, I could be free.
At the window, I surveyed the wintry landscape. This mountain that had once been so lonely, so steeped in death, was budding with life.
Had the Fool foreseen this pregnancy?
He’d once given me a prediction—one part heaven, one part hell—that I’d never shared with my wife. The heaven part had already come true. I’d wanted to warn her about what might follow, but she needed no more worries.
The Empress is as fragile as she is strong.
I cast my mind back to the last few weeks I’d had with my parents, when my mother was with child. My father had treated her as if she were made of gossamer, shielding her from any harshness. I would endeavor to do the same with my wife.
Besides, no fate is fixed. I refused to believe what the Fool had told me.
I made my way into the bathroom to splash water on my face. After drying my skin, I gazed at myself in the mirror.
Stubble. Hair too long. Eyes brimming with satisfaction.
I murmured in disbelief, “I’m going to be a father.”
She’d once told me I treated my books like my children. I’d replied, “The closest I’ll ever come to having them.” No longer.
Me, a father.
How would I protect my family? How would I feed them for a lifetime? It falls to me. In my wildest dreams, I’d never considered the possibility of a child when sourcing for the future.
Paul had prepared a list of items critical for this pregnancy and a newborn. Only one place would have them all—the Sick House, a settlement of sorts to the east. I would set out once the storm broke.
Guilt over my servant’s fate arose, but I shoved it away.
After drying my hands, I stared at them. Death’s touch. My touch. What if I can’t hold my own child?
My wedding ring glinted, drawing my focus. Calm suffused me. With her by my side, we could weather anything.
“Aric?” she sleepily called from the bed. Her softly amorous voice made my muscles tense and my pulse race. I could see it so clearly: she had reached for me in need and found only my pillow.
“Coming, love,” I called back. I would be a good father to our child, but first and foremost, I would always be her devoted husband.
Tomorrow we would have myriad cares and worries—an exile and the fallout from that. Tonight I would count my blessings: a loving wife and a baby on the way.
I took one last look at the mirror to gaze upon the most fortunate man I’d ever known.
8
The Empress
Day 529 A.F.
“You might as well put a bullet in his skull,” Lark sniped at me when we’d all gathered in the courtyard to jettison Paul.
The blizzard had ended on this very day. The winds had died down to silence, and the snow no longer fell. But the black sky and thick cloud deck glowed intermittently from unseen lightning bolts. The river, a gleaming expanse of solid ice, reflected them.
Finn patted Lark’s gloved hand, muttering, “’S cool, babe. Everything’s chill.”
I received no such gesture of support from Aric. He stood stiffly beside me, dressed in armor, as if Paul deserved a uniformed send-off.
The medic lingered at the perimeter gate with his shoulders hunched. He wore snow gear and a backpack—kindnesses from Aric.
I hugged my own ski jacket around me. “No one’s killing anybody,” I told Lark, though Aric’s words filtered through my mind: Exile equals execution.
When she and I had prepared breakfast earlier, her bearing had been frostier than the landscape. The meal had been just as strained. None of us had eaten much except for Finn, who’d merrily chomped down everything, including the frozen ham I’d burned.
He must’ve made himself sick. His color was off, and sweat beaded on his forehead, even in the frigid air.
When he loosened his scarf, I said, “You okay?”
“Let’s get this show on the road, huh.” His impatience surprised me. His only hope for walking without a crutch was about to walk away.
“Call it what you want,” Lark told me. “If Joules and Gabe are on the verge of biting it out there, you know this means certain death for a lone mortal.”
Good. He was a murderer.
Paul cleared his throat. With his brows drawn, he said, “I’m to head out into the Ash, then? Where will I go?”
I was more convinced than ever that his whole demeanor was an act. “Not our concern. Leave. Now.”
His voice broke as he told Aric, “Sir, I . . . I’m scared.”
Damn it, that admission tugged even at my sympathy. What if I was wrong about him?
I’d been wrong before—epically. I’d tried to run away from the game: wrong. I hadn’t listened to wise cards like Aric and Circe when I’d gone to rescue Selena from the Lovers: wrong. Richter had burned her anyway, laying waste to Jack’s army in the process.
Though I hated and mistrusted Paul, the responsibility for killing a mortal weighed on me.
I needed Aric to take my hand and offer support. Instead, I could feel his disappointment in me. After last night, I’d thought we’d be united in this.
Finally, he spoke: “This isn’t right.”
“Seriously, Aric?” He rarely reversed himself. “What happened to trusting me? What happened to following where I lead?”
“Then choose the correct path! Will you show no mercy, Empress?”
“Empress?” I couldn’t remember the last time he’d addressed me like that. “What is wrong with you?”
Paul called, “Please don’t fight over me. I’m sure I’ll be fine. Thank you, sir, for over a year of protection. It’s more than most received.” He turned to go, heading down the drive.
He took one step farther away. Another. With a last look, he strode out of sight.
Finally! Good riddance.
But Aric said, “No, no, this is all wrong.”
“Let him go.” With Paul out of our lives, I’d be able to lower my guard; I would take the leap. “Please, Aric!”
Finn said, “I know I’m the new kid on the block, and my vote doesn’t really count”—Lark’s gaze whipped to the Magician’s sweating face—“and I know I’m about to be in the doghouse with the missus ’cause she’s a fan of Paul’s. But I got real bad vibes about him.”
Someone else felt the same way! I’m not crazy.
Lark’s lips parted. “How can you say that? He’s my friend.”
Finn ran his coat sleeve over his face. “Babe, when he examined me and offered to do the surgery, I turned him down flat. Maybe it’s the Magician in me, but I sense something’s not right with that dude. Figure he’s as trustworthy as gas station sushi.”
“God, thank you, Finn.” I crossed to him and took his hand. “You don’t know how much better this makes me feel.”
With his eyes on Lark, he said, “Just calling it like I see it.” Had he tottered on his feet? “And hoping my girl can . . . my girl can . . .”—he cleared his throat—“understand.” Sweat was dripping down his face now. “Whoa. Something’s off.” He coughed, then again.
I turned to Aric. His gaze remained on the road, even though Paul was no longer visible. “Aric! We need to get him inside.”
A gurgling sound came from Finn’s throat. His face was turning purple! Wait, this
had to be an illusion. He’d told me they were involuntary to a degree, and the stress of this situation must be affecting him. “Is this a trick?”
When Finn collapsed to his knees, Lark shoved me away. “He’s choking!”
Aric sped into action, pulling him up to deliver the Heimlich maneuver. Nothing happened. He tried again.
Frantic, Lark sprinted to the gate. “Paul, we need help!” No answer. “I don’t see him on the road!” He couldn’t already be down that long mountain drive.
Aric said, “Fauna, send your animals to find him.”
She gave a jerky nod, and her eyes turned red as she ran back to us.
When a line of white foam dribbled from Finn’s mouth, Aric laid him on the snowy ground. “The Magician isn’t choking. This is a toxin of some kind. Maybe venom or a poison.”
Finn clutched his throat. Had he eaten something bad? Or . . . “Oh, God, Paul did this.” Gran had accused the medic of poisoning her.
Lark dropped down beside Finn. “Enough about Paul! If he was here, he could fix this!”
The Magician’s eyes were wide with fear.
“Don’t leave me, Finn! I love you.”
He released his throat to grasp Lark’s hands. He believes he’s about to die, is trying to comfort her.
Lark must’ve concluded the same. A high-pitched whine left her lips. Chaos erupted. The animals spread over the property went berserk, yips and howls filling the air.
Finn’s illusions flashed all around the courtyard. Waves . . . a sunset . . . a middle-aged woman with a stern expression . . . how Lark had looked the first time we’d all met her.
Those animal screams rang out louder and louder. I was about to howl right beside them.
“Shut them up so I can think!” I concentrated, trying to sense if some plant-based toxin was inside him. Sensing . . . Not a plant. I couldn’t produce an antidote. But some toxin was killing him. Think! Our only hope was for him to vomit whatever he’d ingested. He needed an emetic!
I yanked off my gloves, then flared my thorn claws. In my chronicles, I’d learned that I could deliver more than poison through them.
“You’re going to claw him?” Lark bared her fangs, hovering protectively over Finn. “Oh, hell no!”
“I’m going to give him something to make him throw up. Let me try to save him.”
She finally relented. “If he doesn’t pull through . . .”
I sank my claws into his neck, injecting him. Please let this work. Withdrawing them, I waited, gaze flitting over his face for any sign.
Yet Finn’s wide eyes grew sightless.
Lark cried, “I don’t hear his heartbeat!”
I turned to Aric. “You know CPR!”
He knelt beside Finn, beginning chest compressions with his gloved hands. One compression after another after another.
Teardrops spilled down Lark’s cheeks. “Finn can’t be gone. He can’t be. I-I just got him back.”
Aric was sweating by the time he drew back. “The Magician’s passed on. There’s nothing I can do.”
Finn was . . . dead.
Tears blinded me. Shock numbed my brain. There was something I needed to remember, but all I could do was stare at my friend’s terrified face.
Lark wailed, a bloodcurdling sound. “Who did this to my Finn?” Would she still not believe it was Paul?
I didn’t know how he’d gotten out of a locked room to poison Finn, but I knew why he’d done it.
The Magician had been on to him.
I barely noticed when Aric stood. “Do you feel that, sievā?” He surveyed the area. “Something is coming.”
“Richter?” Was the end here for all of us?
Aric shook his head. “This is more like what the Moon Card might’ve done—a feeling. An ominous feeling. Some power is amongst us.”
My gaze darted. “Where? How do we fight it?” The air shimmered, and a dome of hazy yellow light appeared above.
When it enveloped us, Aric’s eyes glittered. “A pall falls over us.”
Pall. Paul. Where was the medic?
The ice in the river cracked more loudly than usual, the sound echoing over the mountain like cannon blasts.
Lark rose up from Finn’s body, her eyes turning an even darker red, her fangs sharp. “I know what happened here.” Her tableau wavered over her. Then the image began to rotate until it had turned upside down. Reversed. Her animal gaze landed on me, her expression promising revenge. “You killed Finn. You poisoned him.”
I gawked. “Me? Paul did this!”
“You made the ham. Finn was the only one who ate it, to be polite to you. And you touched him right before he got sick. You clawed him, and he died.”
“Are you high?” How could she doubt me after all I’d done to reunite them? “Why would I ever hurt Finn?”
“You murdered him in the past!” I hated that she had a point. She stalked closer, her movements predatory. “My creatures will fang you apart.”
“Easy, Lark, think about what you’re doing.” Unable to manage so much as a vine, I hurried to Aric’s side. “She’s losing it!” I glanced up at him.
His Grim Reaper tableau appeared as well, turning, reversing. Just before it locked into an upside-down position, he held my gaze and bit out, “Run to the castle.” Seeming to fight some inner battle, he drew his swords. “Run—from me.”
9
Reacting purely by reflex, I leapt away and raced across the snow.
The fortress was on lockdown, only the front door open. I careened through the entrance, then slammed the blast-proof door closed. I turned the lock, but even this weighty barrier wouldn’t keep Aric out for long.
“There’s nowhere for you to go, Empress,” he said outside the door. “For the first time since I met you, my thoughts are clear. I know I can never have peace while you live.”
“WHAT???”
“You mesmerized me. Made me believe you loved me. Just as you’ve done before.”
“Have you lost your mind—I do love you!”
“Lies!” He pounded on the door with his unnatural strength.
What was I going to do? “Something is happening to you! Your tableau is turned upside-down.”
“Everything you say is a lie. Nothing changes. You killed the Magician—another of your allies—just as you do in each game! We trust; you betray.” He kept pounding on the door: boom . . . boom . . . boom.
I was trapped on this mountain with two Arcana who wanted to murder me. I had dead vines climbing the ceilings, but even if I managed to revive them, Aric would easily slice them away. My only real hope was to get to the nursery, to the sunlamps—
A spine-tingling growl sounded from behind me. I slowly turned; Cyclops crouched in the foyer, saliva dripping from his knifelike fangs. More animals filed into the chamber beyond. The creatures I passed by every day now looked rabid. Under Lark’s control, they were all predators.
“No, Cyclops. Don’t do this.” I raised my palms in front of me, struggling to revive nearby vines. Would Lark truly make him attack? “I didn’t hurt Finn!”
From outside, she screamed, “You poisoned him! Cyclops, disembowel her!”
The giant war wolf sprang for me. I squeezed my eyes shut. Vines shot from the ceiling, jabbing like wooden spears, out of my control.
YELP. When I looked again, the beast was skewered throughout his body, pinned to the floor. Unable to move, he cast me a heartbreaking look of confusion—my onetime bedmate and favorite pet.
“Cyclops, I’m so sorry.” Reminding myself that he’d heal, I edged around the whimpering wolf.
A trio of badgers, a Komodo dragon, and two snarling hyenas blocked my way to the nursery. As they advanced on me, I screamed, “Stop this, Lark!” I revived more vines to knock the beasts out of my way, but twice as many took their place. My powers were already sputtering.
BOOM . . . BOOM . . . BOOM.
I’d never reach the nursery before Aric leveled that door. Lark’s arsenal was pre
venting me from reaching mine.
No choice but to flee up the stairs. I’d barely made two steps when a wave of small forest creatures descended. I booted a couple, dodging the worst of the onslaught.
Racing upward, I tripped on two foxes. Falling forward . . . My forehead banged the edge of a step. “Ah!” Blood streamed into my eyes. Sprouts shot from the crimson drops, coiling around the creatures.
Gritting my teeth, I pushed on, managing to reach the second-floor landing. I drew up short, swiping my eyes. Paul stood off to the side, guarded by Scarface and Maneater.
“How in the hell did you get inside?”
“I know every secret chamber and passageway in this castle. I grew up here, was the caretaker’s son.” My lips parted. “I can get in anywhere, have had access to every inch of the place.” He smirked as he said, “Even after I was ‘locked up.’”
A hazy light glowed behind his head, the same color as that dome outside. It seemed to be strengthening, spreading.
Then an image flickered over him. A tableau. I’d seen it before: a man dangling upside-down from a rope looped around his ankle and tied to a tree limb. A jagged burst of yellow light haloed the man’s head.
The Hanged Man. Paul was the inactivated card.
His tableau was reversed as well. Which meant the Hanged Man appeared to nimbly stand on his toes. No dangling—because he was in full control.
“You killed Finn.” I looked for an icon, but he wore gloves. “You poisoned him, and now your powers have been activated.” I tried to recall anything I’d read about this card. He was called Our Lord Uncanny—because so little was known about him.
“We both know that you poisoned him. Just as you did in past games. You are the princess of poison, remember?”
Had I murdered Finn in this game? I did clearly recall doing it before.
I sliced him to ribbons and choked him in vine. My God, I’d said that aloud! I shook my head hard. “Finn was my friend. I didn’t hurt him—you did.”
Paul tilted his head. “Interesting. Even as my sphere of clarity spreads, you’re able to resist me.”
The Dark Calling Page 6