by Kresley Cole
At the roar, Lark had ducked behind a stock-still lioness. Even Cyclops hunched down, his frizzy fur quivering. Seeming oblivious, a Komodo dragon waddled past, flicking its tongue.
“Tell me what’s going on!”
Under her breath, Lark said, “Ogen. He’s pissed about something.”
“But he sounds a thousand times worse than he did before, even in battle.”
She shrugged. “Look, we can take the grand tour another time. He’s having a fit.”
“Does he have them often?”
“There are a ton of dates that are sacred to him, annual Sabbats. And not like cool Wicca Sabbats either. These are dark. I try to keep track of them, but I haven’t been with him for a full year to chart them all. Bottom line: sometimes he hankers for the occasional . . . offering.”
“Will he hurt me?” I asked.
“Death ordered him not to hurt anyone.”
“Does Ogen follow orders?”
In a low voice, Lark said, “There’s a reason the Devil’s horns keep changing lengths. Whenever Ogen disobeys him, Death lops off an inch. Once there’s no more left to cut, Ogen gets beheaded. That’s their deal.”
How sick. “Why did Ogen agree to a deal like that?”
“Death had him at sword point. Told Ogen he’d spare his life for a time—on a couple of conditions, of course.”
I heard those towering gate doors groan open, then slam shut.
With a relieved exhalation, Lark straightened her cap and stood. “He’s off the grounds.”
“Why would you stay in a place like this—with him? Wait a second, I know what’s going on here. Death is holding these animals hostage, coercing you to work for him.”
“He’s not like that, at least not to me. We hooked up because my dad managed this menagerie for him. At least Dad had before he went on a surprise acquisition run and bit it in the Flash.”
“So if Death isn’t pulling the strings, then screwing us over is all on you?”
“I never said he didn’t pull the strings. He does, often.” When a peacock strutted over to her, Lark skimmed her fingers over the edge of its tail fan. “For the record, after I met you guys, I told him I couldn’t go forward with the plan if you were all going to die.”
This was surprising, soothing a bit of my hatred toward her. “Let me guess—he assured you that we’d be fine?”
She lifted her chin. “If you think back, I was the one who got Death to spare you in the beginning. And then to save you from drowning.”
“I wouldn’t have needed help if you hadn’t betrayed us in the first place! I can’t believe I took up for you against Selena. Unlike me and Finn, she had your number from the start!” As my voice scaled higher, more creatures eased over to Lark, surrounding her protectively.
“You’re not going to make me feel guilty about what I did.”
“Finn was falling for you, but now he knows what you did.” The second girl to hide her true nature from him. “You broke him, Lark. There isn’t a whole lot of light left in the world, but he was a bright spot. He may have survived, but you still doused him.”
A hint of some emotion flitted across her face, then gone. “A small price to pay for the life I have here. Each night I watch a new movie, while my wolves doze in front of a roaring fire. At any time, I can shuffle down to the kitchen, make a grilled cheese, and have fresh milk with it. There are no cannibals or Baggers to dine on me, no militia to rape me, no slavers, no plague.” She jerked her chin toward Ogen’s guardhouse. “The Devil you know, baby.”
“You didn’t just say that? I hate you.” I pinched the bridge of my nose. “You mention a lot of pros to living here. What about the cons? You have no free will and no future. Death will kill you eventually.”
“Well, then, I’m not wasting another minute arguing with you. I’m tired of you making me feel bad.” Baring her little fangs, she marched up until we were almost toe to toe. “For better or worse, we’re roomies now. So you’ll just have to check your baggage at the damn door.”
“Or what?” I closed the remaining distance between us to stare her down—challenging, since we were about the same height. “What can you do to me? That’s right, not a—ow.” Pain flared in my leg. When I shot a glance down, I spied two puncture marks in my slacks and a cobra slithering away. “Ugh, disgusting!” I sidestepped with a shudder. “You made it bite me? Hate to tell you this, but I’m immune to poison, and likely venom too—ow.” Another one got my other leg. “Damn it, Lark!”
She laughed. “Calm yo tits, unclean one. Those were dry bites. Nonpoisonous.”
I narrowed my eyes. “I will get this cuff off me one day. Keep this up, and you’ll find yourself mummified in vine.”
“Noted. Now, come on, there’s a ton more to see.” She opened the barn door. “Admit it, this place is badass. Some steel baron built it for his wife in the twenties, but she died mysteriously. It might even be haunted! They had cold-war renovations made, so the basement is like a bunker, bigger than Warehouse 13.”
“Death lived here before the Flash, prepping everything?” Must’ve been nice to have time to get ready. “Did he know it was coming?”
“Not the Flash necessarily. He just knew some kind of catastrophe always accompanies the beginning of a game.” With pride, she said, “Boss was mega-rich and used bank to doomsday-prep for everything from snowmageddon to a great flood. My dad and I just thought he was an eccentric billionaire.”
“Then Warehouse 13 is where you keep your garden?”
Lark hastily said, “No!”
I gave her a pleasant smile. “Just a matter of time. So if you’ve been with the Reaper this long, how come you weren’t in that first battle against Joules, Gabriel, and Calanthe?”
“Death and Ogen had only planned to go on a supply run, and I had a foaling mare to tend to. Breeding is my top priority. Look, Death doesn’t hold the animals over me, but I’m not stupid. Where else am I going to find hundreds of tons of hay?”
At the barn door, I gazed back. For all I knew, this might be the largest collection of animals left on earth. She was shepherding them, increasing their numbers. And despite myself, my hatred cooled another degree.
Once she’d locked the barn behind us, we meandered down a brick path past a training yard. Death was there, shirtless in the rain, practicing with his swords. I didn’t think I would ever get used to seeing that kind of strength and speed. His skin was damp, those tattoos rippling as his chest muscles flexed.
What did those symbols mean? Why would he mark himself like that?
Though shot just yesterday, he’d taken no downtime, working past those stitched-up wounds, his enhanced healing clearly at work. “Did you tend to his gunshot wounds?” I asked Lark.
She shook her head. “The human servant I told you about was an EMT pre-Flash.”
When Death hammered a particularly fierce blow against a training post, she breathed, “Don’t you think he’s amazing to watch?”
I didn’t want to. In a sour tone, I said, “Amazing? Maybe like a tornado is.” And this was the man I was supposed to seduce?
In matters concerning boys, I’d always turned to my best friend Mel. I could imagine what she would do about this situation: ogle him thoroughly, then quip, “It’s a dirty job, bitches, but somebody’s gotta do him.”
Lark said, “He’s got that whole I-have-power-over-all-I-survey vibe. Admit it, it’s sexy.”
“Not when I’m one of the things he has power over. And unlike you, I don’t enjoy seeing him out here improving his skills. How do you get past the fact that he’s going to murder you?”
She readjusted her cap. “Boss said he’ll let me live half a decade in safety, okay? In A.F. years, that’s a lifetime.”
“Never going to happen. He intends to win this game and play again in the future, right?” At her confused look, I said, “We age as long as the game spools on. He ages. Your half a decade would put him closing in on thirty for the next round. And th
is is a young man’s game.” The utter confidence in my words must be troubling to her. “Believe me, he’ll close us out as soon as possible.”
“Unless you do something, huh?”
“Bingo. You want me to forgive you? Then earn it. You’re going to give me Death’s schedule, a layout of the compound, and a map of this mountain. Right after you show me the garden.”
“Oh, am I?” She grinned, as if we were embarking on a new, fun pastime.
“Mark my words, Lark. You’re going to do it today. . . .”
29
DAY 272 A.F.
A week had passed and Lark had given up precisely not shit.
Whenever I demanded answers, she’d just chuckle, telling me, “Stop and smell the roses.” At least she’d been leaving my cell unlocked, not that I could ever ditch my unshakable guard.
This morning I was pacing in my turret, Cyclops snoring in front of the door. Seven days wasted, and I was no closer to escaping, no closer to taking out Death.
Matthew had been of little help. In each of his daily check-ins, he’d told me how desperate Jack was to find me, how much anguish the boy felt that he couldn’t save me from Death. Those check-ins made me crazed to reach Jack. I was worried sick about all of them out there.
If my only option against the Reaper was seducing him to trust me, then I was more than ready to play the up-to-a-point seductress.
Unfortunately, I was rarely around him. Most often he was either training in the yard or sequestered in his “unauthorized” rooms. The one meal Death always appeared for was breakfast, but he was usually engrossed in his newspaper.
I had asked him questions—about the weather, his home, the game, pet peeves, favorite food, anything—and he’d ignored me as if I were a pesky fly.
To my face, he showed no interest. Yet I felt his eyes on me constantly. When I took my daily walks outside to get the lay of the land, I would sometimes peer up and see him staring at me from his arched windows. And this morning, as I’d stood at the sideboard, I’d sensed his penetrating gaze on me. Stealing a glance over my shoulder, I’d caught him raising the paper—with his hands clenched into fists. . . .
I stopped pacing and sat in the turret’s window seat. From here, I had a view of the entire compound, including the training yard where Death practiced every day. He never wore armor for this, usually didn’t even bother with a shirt. Which made sense—clothing was going to prove harder and harder to come by.
He was down there right now, training with his horse, Thanatos, charging a moving target: a shield suspended from a swiveling post, moving in the wind. Even at full speed, Death hit it every time.
Though gusts whipped his blond hair, he seemed oblivious to the cold and rain. Mud splattered his bare chest, across those runes, as if he were fresh from the fray. Even with his new scars, Death was breathtaking.
As he practiced, I found myself lulled by his precise movements and harnessed aggression, my lids growing heavy, as if with . . . satisfaction. As if I was right where I was supposed to be. Which freaked me out. Satisfaction when in the lair of a murderer? One who planned to kill me?
Unless I got to him first.
—Empress? You awake?—
I’m up. Matthew, give me some good news.
—The snow hasn’t come yet.—
Great. Is Jack doing any better?
—No.—
I squeezed my eyes shut. As much as I hated the thought of Jack suffering, I knew we couldn’t be together, not until I succeeded here. You’ve kept him off my trail?
—You’re in my eyes.— Matthew showed me a live vision. Through his gaze, I could see the interior of a run-down house, could see Jack there. God, I missed him!
His expression wild, he punched his fist through a plaster wall, then swung around to turn over a table stacked with maps. Even through the vision, I could feel his frustration, would give anything to ease it.
He stormed up to Matthew. “You know where she is, coo-yôn!” he bellowed at the boy. “Doan tell me different. You’ll find her, just like you did in Requiem.”
Matthew turned his head to show me Selena and Finn sitting in silence, as if waiting for this to blow over.
As if used to it.
I noticed Jack wasn’t drinking, and that departure from his normal behavior concerned me as much as everything else I was seeing.
He raked his hand through his hair. “Why woan you help me, boy? I told ma fille I’d be coming for her.” My girl. When his gray eyes misted wet, my heart lurched. “What the hell is he doing to her?!”
Matthew, you haven’t told him I’m safe! Do it now!
—Won’t lie.—
Another worry to put on the heap of them. But for now, all I could think about was Jack.
Voice gone raw, he asked Matthew, “Is that bastard . . . is he hurting her?”
Tell him I’m fine, just passing time until the storms end! Tell him I’ll meet up with you in a couple of weeks. Please, please don’t make him suffer like this.
Jack looked like he would go insane if this went on for much longer. Which put an even more pressing clock on my mission to win over Death.
Matthew, please, I’m begging you to help Jack.
—He’s tempted to beat your location out of me. But you asked him to keep me safe.—
I thought you couldn’t read Dee-vee-oh well.
—Doesn’t take a Fool to foresee this! Jack Deveaux talks with fists.—
You sound almost admiring.
—Jack is . . . unexpected.—
Unexpected? That was something for a psychic to say. Even I didn’t know what Jack would do if his back was against the wall.
And it was. Which meant mine was too.
—Work on the Reaper, Empress.—
The man hates me. I can rarely even get into the same vicinity.
A couple of days ago, I’d hit my limit with everything—being a captive, missing Jack and Matthew, even Finn and Selena. And I’d been fed up with this place. It might have all kinds of luxuries, but no one laughed here, no one conversed or joked. It was like a giant tomb.
Fitting.
So I’d ignored Death’s threats—and dire warnings about his privacy—and marched down to chew him out. Or seduce him. Whatever.
Before I could ever reach his off-limits rooms, Cyclops had nipped my heels and tripped me over and over until I’d given up.
Later I’d told Lark, “You’ve got to call off your wolf.”
“So you can go snag a paring knife and cut on yourself to remove your cuff? Lemme get right on that. Besides, the wolf isn’t just there as a jailor.”
“Because I need protection from Ogen?” He’d had another fit midweek.
“Do you think you don’t need it. . . ?”
—Death wants Life.— Matthew said. —Proximity, seduction, freedom.—
At that moment, I saw the Reaper leading his horse into the barn. He’d be in the manor in minutes. Do as I ask, Matthew! I sprinted down the steps and along the corridor, barreling into the great room, Cyclops padding behind me.
I was still out of breath when Death strode in, tall, pumped, gorgeous. He was swiping off rain with a towel, his torso muscles contracting in a stunning display.
He scowled to see me, then turned toward his rooms.
Undeterred, I tried to match steps with him. “Is today the day you’re going to kill me?”
“Not yet, creature.”
“Just so you know, boredom’s already chasing me around with a scythe.”
Had one corner of his lips curled? The closest Death came to a real smile? “I still gather information for my decision.”
“What do you expect me to do all day?”
“Avail yourself of the library.” Arching a brow, he said, “Improve your mind. Learn to speak S.A.T.”
His clever comeback was surprising. I thought this might be . . . teasing. From Death.
Then I remembered his comments about my “banal and tedious” thoughts. H
e genuinely found my mind lacking. “For the record, I was a straight-A student for my entire life.” At least until Matthew’s visions had mentally hamstrung me.
Death gave a scornful laugh. “Your entire life? And how old are you, little girl? Fifteen?”
I bit out, “Sixteen.” God, he had a way of getting under my skin! “Why are you always training? It’s not like you need to get better at killing.”
He stopped before me. “Perhaps it keeps my mind off other things.” His gaze raked over me.
Flirting?! Unused to this side of him, I asked, “And why can’t you think about those things?”
“Ah. Now the seduction starts. Right on schedule. You can’t even help what you are.”
“What does that mean?”
He continued forward. “I’ll be on my guard, which means I will retaliate if you come close to me again.”
“Why do you separate yourself from me? Matthew told me you were thinking about keeping me . . . around. Maybe you’ve always planned it. When you got this property ready, you prepared that room in the turret with me in mind, didn’t you?”
“You are not a long-term acquisition, I assure you.”
Chilling. This man could steal into my bedroom anytime he wanted and behead me. Before, I’d been more concerned about Jack and Matthew. Now I feared for my own life as well. “Then why let me live for this long? Why bother with me at all?”
“Understand me, creature, I never stop playing the game. Keeping you is strategy. You are a wild card, as it were. As long as the Empress is alive, the other Arcana believe they have a chance to defeat me. They grow bolder with me.” He flashed that unsettling look of his. “I like them bold.”
“What does it matter?” I asked as we passed the gym. Lark peeked out, tilting her head with curiosity.
“At your demise, many would scatter across the land. They’d believe—rightly—that they have no shot against me. Which makes my job much more difficult. I enjoy the comforts of my home; I do not wish to stray far from it. Nor do I wish this game to drag on longer than it must. If fortune is with me, some Arcana might even descend on this place to rescue you, my poison princess in the tower. My alleged sole weakness.”