by Kresley Cole
"You're doing great. Look at you!" Her words reminded me of my childhood. I recalled how she'd praised me for finding colored eggs one Easter. I'd proudly held up my basket, and someone had snapped a photo of me, Mom, and Gran. Mom had held that picture as she'd passed away with Jack by her side.
She'd died because of Bagmen. We'd burned her body because of the Lovers. Jack had died without grace because of the Emperor.
Jack's eulogy had been Richter's laughter. Rage welled in me, as powerful as Circe's tidal wave. Replace the Emperor's laughter with screams--
The seeds cracked open; plants exploded outward to crawl and fork across the ceiling and walls.
"Good Lord, Evie!" Gran looked at me . . . with awe. "I think you could be the most dangerous Empress ever to live." She surveyed the new growths.
Regardless of the seed species, all had become vines with daggerlike thorns. I slumped back in my seat. "As long as that means the Emperor dies."
"You're one step closer to truly becoming the Empress."
I swiped at my forehead and reached for a glass of water. "I'm not now? What will change?"
"When you fully give in to the heat of battle, your hair will turn red permanently and your skin markings will always show. You'll be more powerful than you can imagine."
All I had to do was give myself over to the red witch forever. Would I take that risk to kill Richter?
One problem: the red witch might not stop with him. Evie is a sliver of ME!
Gran frowned. "I was actually surprised your hair is still blond. But no matter. We'll keep working. You mastered that so quickly, I think there's something else you should work on. Close your eyes and cover your ears."
I did. I sensed movement, a scrape of metal. One of my vines shifted, so I opened my eyes.
Gran stood in front of me with a sharp paring knife inches above my head--and that vine gripping her wrist.
I waved a hand to release her. "You really were going to, uh, stab me?"
She set the knife back on the tray. "Yes." Rubbing her wrist, she sat again. "You would heal, and the attack needed to be real for your vines to react."
My soldiers had had a mind of their own. And I'd seemed to sense through them.
At the Lovers' lair, I'd set vines free, commanding them to kill Bagmen, even perceiving destruction through them. But I'd never felt them working on autopilot before, with no conscious thought from me. "I wouldn't even have to look behind me to aim?"
She nodded. "Your vines have an awareness. Even when you sleep, they keep watch. Unfortunately, they're not foolproof. Some players, like Death, are too quick. He's slipped past your sentries before. Other players--like the Tower--strike from too far away for your plants to detect them."
"What else can I do?" I asked, eager to learn.
"You can become a talented healer. You have an innate knowledge of medicinal plants, and I'll teach you more. You can also manipulate wood. Past Empresses crafted priceless jewelry pieces, giving them as signs of favor. And with a wave of her hand, one Empress constructed bridges and shrines, building an entire civilization, easily garrisoning her army of men."
Aric had told me I'd commanded an army in the past, one that had clashed against the Emperor's.
"Another Empress could spy on foes through any plant on earth. She could even meld her body with a tree, transporting herself from one trunk to another."
"No way!" Could I meld into a tree? Hadn't I once had the urge to put my fingers in the soil and take root?
"Not that there are any trees left to travel through." Gran sighed. "I'll show you more after you've rested. You're still recovering."
"I'm fine. I can do this." But she looked as if my exercise had weakened her.
"In time. For now, why don't you tell me about your interactions with Death? He was the last person I expected to show up at my door."
"What made you go with him?"
"I had a feeling that was my path, and I was on borrowed time anyway. Plus he knew things about you. The name of your horse. Your art. Your ballet. He said that you'd spent months trying to reach me, and he planned to give you whatever you desired. Could've knocked me over with a feather."
Despite knowing everything about me, even my malicious past, Aric still loved me. I didn't want to hurt him anymore. But every time I contemplated my life, all I saw was my past--Jack--and my future--Richter.
"Death is very protective of you," she said. "He can't help it. He's cursed to desire you each game."
Ouch. "Gran, it's more than just desire."
She sighed. "He's got you believing he loves you, doesn't he? He's killed you two out of the last three games. He beheaded you." As I'd pointed out to him last night. "He's a villain, Evie."
Time to explain the new program to Gran. "Aric would give his life for mine. I trust him."
"I admit he did go to great lengths to rescue you. But only because he can touch you. He's a red-blooded male, and you're the sole woman he can be with. What wouldn't he do to preserve your life?"
Again, ouch. "Then why would he return you to me?"
"As a courtship gift, to sway your favor. He's notoriously calculating, does everything for a reason."
She was right about the courtship. Aric had admitted as much. He'd intended to use my grandmother to coerce me, but in the end, he hadn't gone through with it. He'd wanted me to choose him--but only if I loved him more than Jack.
How could I explain that to Gran? She would never believe it anyway.
"We will use this to our advantage," she said. "He'll continue to protect you, so you should keep him alive to the very end." Aric would be happy to know her game strategy was no longer flawed. "Your victory is so close."
I shuddered at the idea of winning. "Can the game be stopped?" Could fate be changed?
"I don't follow." She blinked at me, as if I'd just asked, "Hey, can I borrow your credit card and pop over to the mall?"
"I know others have tried to stop it before."
"Some players united, making a big show of peace. But in the end, all those alliances failed. Arcana are born to kill. They only delayed the inevitable."
"Why is it inevitable?"
"The gods decreed this game," she said. "They set these events into motion eons ago. Someone has to win. No matter what, someone will win. Say the last two cards allied for a couple of decades: they would both age. Once one died, the other would walk the earth--older, weaker. Disadvantaged in the next game."
When he'd sought a future with me, clever Aric had already come up with a solution to this problem. He and I would live our lives together, with Lark tagging along. We would somehow predecease her (that part had been vague), and she would endure for centuries, forced to play the next game against Arcana young enough to be her grandkids. Yet she'd volunteered for it!
Being with Aric had seemed so complicated, so loaded with intrigues.
When I'd chosen Jack, I'd also been choosing the future he represented: building Acadiana, far from the game, repurposing my abilities to help others.
Gran said, "Not that the Minor Arcana would allow such a union anyway."
My eyes widened. "They exist?" In any Tarot deck, there were fifty-six Minor Arcana cards, divided into four suits: cups, pentacles or rings, wands, and swords.
Such as the eerie ten of swords card. I couldn't imagine that one as a person.
Gran's gray brows drew together. "Of course," she said, as if she was telling me something I should already know. "They can be as dangerous as Major Arcana. Especially the court cards."
"Where are they?" Did they converge too? "How do you find them?"
"You don't," she said. "Best avoid them. Let's hope the Knight of Swords perished in the Flash. The Queen of Cups too. Truly, a good dozen of them are walking nightmares."
"Aric said he sees evidence of them everywhere in some games; other games, no sign at all. He also said that some believe Tarasovas are Minors."
Gran crossed her arms over her chest. "Bull
manure. I'm no Minor. They have their own functions--to hide evidence of the Major Arcana, to hasten the game, and then to rebuild the civilization afterward. My function is to make sure you win."
Why hadn't Matthew told me about them? Or had he? The last time I'd seen him, he'd said there were now five obstacles to beware: Bagmen, slavers, militia, cannibals, and . . . Minors. "The Fool told me the Minors watch us, plotting against us. I thought he was talking about miners, with an e." How many times had I misunderstood his decoder-ring talk? Sometimes I could have sworn he'd confused me on purpose. "Why would they plot?"
"They'll want the earth righted as soon as possible. Minors like to see dead Majors--because catastrophes end with the close of the game."
I'd made promises over my mother's body to find Gran and see if we could fix all that the apocalypse had broken. Was dying the most helpful thing I could do to further that end?
"Once you've collected all the icons, the earth should come back," Gran said. "The sun as well."
"Should come back?"
"There's never been a disaster like this. I can't say for certain." She rubbed her temples, like I did whenever my head was hurting. "When you were a girl, I knew you would be important to the future of humanity, but I didn't know how. Maybe you're supposed to reseed the planet."
Yet I couldn't do that permanently until the game ended and daylight came back--if I even won. For that to happen, I'd have to lose Aric, Lark, Circe, Finn, Joules, and Gabriel. In other words, I'd be insane.
Now Gran had just confirmed a new threat--to all of them. I'd have to think about the Minors later. Put 'em on the list. "When the Empress won before, what did she do until the next game?"
Aric had revealed how he'd spent his solitary centuries: "I wander the earth and see men age before my eyes. I read any book or paper I can get my hands on. I watch the stars in the sky; over my lifetime some dim, some brighten. I sleep for weeks at a time and chase the dragon."
When he'd made that confession, I'd thanked God I hadn't been cursed to that. His horse looks sick, and he has no friends. Why would he have made friends? Just to watch them die, over and over?
Gran frowned. "What did the Empress do? She was immortal."
"But how did she spend her time? What was her life like?" My life.
"I don't know," she said, clearly stumped. "Chroniclers only document the games. She probably ruled over men as a goddess. And relived her most glorious victories."
So the Empress had spent centuries gazing at the twenty-one icons on the backs of her hands. I'll pass. The more I thought about the game, the more I saw my battle against Richter as a one-way ticket. I didn't expect to walk away unscathed from a murderer who leveled mountains and bled lava.
And I'd never stop until he was dead. "Gran, would you rather that I live happily for a few months or be miserable for hundreds of years?"
"We don't have time for silly questions," she said, exasperated. "Your immortal life will be a tribute to the gods. You will be the winner. You must be." She waved at the vines seeming to pulsate all around us. "And why shouldn't you win? You've already made brilliant plays. Your alliance is well-picked for the most part. Though Circe can be tricky." A sudden gust of wind spattered rain against the window. Her eyes darted toward the glass. "The Flash must have weakened her. Her attack on the Emperor would have too. But she regains her strength with every single drop." Gran met my gaze again. "At least that little Fauna will be easy to remove."
My claws sharpened at even the imagined threat to Lark. The vines on the ceiling skittered. Enough. "I need you to understand some things. I didn't turn out like you hoped. Given the choice, I would never fight or play this game. These icons on my hand disgust me--I have them only because I fought for my own life. I'll help take out the Emperor and his allies, but I could never hurt my friends."
Her eyes went wild. "Friends? Friends? They will betray you at the first opportunity!" Spittle dotted her lips. "The only reason Death might not is because his lust is stronger than his age-old need to kill." She leaned in aggressively. "Do you think they care about you?"
I squared my shoulders. "Yes, I do."
"You won't for long," she promised me. "Not after you've read our chronicles from front to back."
"What are you talking about? We don't have written chronicles."
"You know we do."
Mouth gone dry, I shook my head hard. "You would've . . . you would've shown them to me."
"Evie," she said in a measured tone, "I did."
23
The Hunter
"Coo-yon?"
A light neared, getting brighter. A lantern? Shadows wavered over the rock walls. I raised a hand to my forehead, shielding my eyes. Hadn't seen this much light in weeks.
I squinted. Blinked. Blinked again. The image remained.
Before me was two of . . . Matthew. "Hunter!"
"You a ghost? You goan to take me to hell?"
He frowned. "Do you know the way?"
Sounded like something he'd say! Could this truly be coo-yon? My heart got to pounding--made my leg throb like the devil. "You real?"
In a too-loud voice, he said, "We're leaving."
"Shhh! You are real." I choked out words: "Did Evie . . . d-did my girl . . . live?" I held my breath, waiting for his answer. The next few seconds would decide whether I hoped for a future--or accepted the end of a life that already felt too long.
Every moment of my existence seemed to lead up to this strange kid's next words. All the pain. All the confusion. And then that sweet, sweet time when Evangeline Greene was all mine . . .
"Empress lived. Her smile died."
"Ah, God, my girl's alive." Relief made me even more lightheaded. "Alive." I shuddered, and my eyes grew damp. Couldn't control my emotions, me. "How? I thought I got her killed like the rest."
"Tredici saved her."
"Tre-what?" Was he talking about Dominija? I'd figured as much.
"Death!"
"Quiet, coo-yon." I slept apart from the other captives, but somebody would hear him before long. "I gotta get to Evie." I tried to scramble up on my good leg. Only busted my ass.
Waves of dizziness hit. I had to gnash my teeth to keep from blacking out. "How'd you sneak past the guards?" Shackled slaves could move around down here at the terminus, but two armed guards kept anyone from getting near the mine elevator.
Coo-yon shrugged. "Mad skillz."
"Who's with you? They comin' in guns blazing?" I was going to get free of this hellhole! I'd get back to my girl.
He lowered his lantern. "I'm rogue."
I tried sitting up again, slowly. "What's that mean? Is Evie close?" God, let her be.
"I'm alone."
The fuck? "No other Arcana with you? Then I'm trapped here. And soon you will be too if you doan go." I sank back against the stone wall. "Tell her I love her. Tell her . . . tell her I'll see her again. Somewhere, someway. Now leave!"
He shook his head and covered his lips with a forefinger. He was shushing me? After he'd been so loud? "Time for you to go."
Started to ask him if he was crazy. Already knew the answer to that, me. "You must mean I'm about to die. You here to see me out?"
"To see you up."
"You talking topside?" I squinted again. Was that blood on the backs of his hands?
Blood on his hands. Just like I had blood on mine. An army's worth. "Why didn't you warn me about Richter?" Jaw clenched, I grabbed the hem of his coat. "We lost Selena to that fils de pute. We lost an army."
"I see far."
"Goddamn it, why. Tell me you had a reason to let everyone die."
"I had a reason."
"More important than the future of mankind? 'Cause that's what we were dealing with." Maybe that attack had kept Richter from targeting even more people. Maybe the entire army would've gotten bonebreak fever and died in agony. "How can I trust you again?"
"Attempt escape, Hunter. Or be cut up for meat."
Trusting him would be
like playing Russian roulette with more than one bullet in the chamber.
He slanted his head. "It's time for you to go. I thought you'd want to see her."
"Of course I want to! Desperate to. But unless you got a hacksaw . . ." My blurry eyes tried to follow his movements.
From a backpack, coo-yon produced a goddamned hacksaw! The Fool was saving my ass? The rescuer being rescued?
Dizziness had the mine spinning. I gave my head a hard shake. "Might pass out, coo-yon. You got a plan to get us out of here?"
He knelt to saw. "No plan."
Merde! "You ready to fight your way out of here, boy?" I asked, though he'd never lifted a finger to fight in the past. "If we doan win, they're goan to catch us and lock you down here."
When he peered up at me again, my blurred vision failed to place him for a second, almost as if I were seeing another face. Or a . . . mask. He didn't look like the boy I'd spent months working beside.
Then he gave me his usual blank grin, back to the Fool again. He truly didn't have a plan.
All the sudden I could read the future. By tonight, he would be in chains, and I'd be butchered. . . .
24
The Empress
Creepy book in hand, I sat beside the fire in Gran's room.
Sure enough, the Empress's line had chronicles.
Either I was going crazy, had gone crazy, or my grandmother was lying. Had she truly shown the book to me half my life ago? How could my memories have gotten so scrambled?
Both Matthew and Selena had said my line chronicled, but I'd thought the knowledge had been passed down verbally or something.
After Gran's revelation, she'd dug an ancient-looking book out of her bag, having trouble lifting the weighty thing. The battered leather of the cover looked like the skin of a Bagman.
She'd been stunned by my lack of recognition, sinking down on her bed, looking ten years older. "No wonder you hesitate to kill them," she'd said, as if explaining the worst tragedy. . . .
Now she watched me like a hawk. "Nothing?" I shook my head. "How could you not remember?"
"I was only eight when you went away, and I was forbidden to talk about anything you taught me." Young as I was, I'd been old enough to know that Mom had banished my grandmother for her beliefs. Why wouldn't I have pushed Arcana stuff from my mind to avoid a similar fate? "When I got older and I had visions of the apocalypse, Mom blamed you, so she sent me to a head-shrink place, like the one you went to. I got . . . deprogrammed."