Endless Knight: The Arcana Chronicles

by Kresley Cole

  I’d heard some of their conversation and had been delighted that he’d recovered his beautiful bullshit. “I’m not perfect, Lark,” he’d told her gravely. “Due to some self-esteem issues, I always put out on the first date. Working through that, though. Help me?”

  She’d laughed, clearly liking him too. Maybe they did have some kind of infinity-symbol connection. It gave me a tendril of hope. If they fell in love, we’d have another pair of Arcana who would never hurt the other. One more stick of dynamite in the machine.

  Normally I wouldn’t be thinking about hookups at a time like this. But these mini-alliances were critical.

  Now Selena asked her, “What do you know about the game, Lark?”

  “You want to talk about the specifics in front of a Muggle?” She hiked her thumb at Jack.

  “He knows everything,” I assured her. “What can you tell us?”

  “My family chronicled,” she said, buffing her claws. They weren’t like my thorn ones. Hers were narrower and curling, talonlike. Plus, hers never disappeared completely.

  Selena gave a laugh. “Oh, really? See, I heard you got capped first in the previous game. Numero uno. When would you have had time to set up a centuries-old paper trail for your family’s descendants?”

  Finn glowered. “Ease off, Selena.”

  “No, it’s okay,” the girl said. “Granted, I know more about the current game, like what the big dogs are up to.”

  “Big dogs?” I asked.

  “The players with the most bite, like you and Selena. Like Death and Tess.”

  “We met her. What do you know about her?”

  Matthew muttered, “Bad cards.”

  “She’s the World Card,” Lark said. “The fifth element. She was with Joules and Gabriel a week ago. They must’ve taken her on as an ally. Smart move on their part, since she can pretty much control space and time. One problem: the chronicler of her line dropped the ball, so she doesn’t understand why she levitates every time she sneezes. If she gets turned on, time races and stuff.”

  Finn looked captivated with Lark, resting his chin on his hand as he gazed at her. “How’s that work?”

  “Don’t ask me. I’m not a doctor or a quantum physicist.”

  He and Lark laughed, but then her smile faded. “I shouldn’t poke fun. She looked like a sweet girl. Cried a lot though, and bit her nails till they bled. Not understanding your powers must be a bitch.”

  It was. I remembered when I’d been in the same boat, wondering why plants responded to me. I felt for Tess, wanting to help her.

  “But I’m sure Joules and Gabriel will get her up to speed about the game, if they haven’t already.” Lark pointed to Matthew. “The Fool’s got a big target on his back too. He knows everyone’s weaknesses and powers.”

  Matthew blinked at her. “Arsenals.”

  “And Evie?” Jack asked.

  Lark turned to me. “The ones who understand the game want to keep you alive so you can take out Death. But there are some who don’t know better. And now that you’re worth a pair of icons . . .” She trailed off, eyeing my hand. “Well, it’s tempting.”

  Two icons, mine and the Alchemist’s.

  Jack covered my hand with his own. “It might be tempting—but it ain’t happening.”

  She gave him a duh look. “Hello, we’re allies now.” Reaching into her coat pocket, she pulled out a laminated scroll, handing it to me.

  I unfurled it, finding archaic writing on yellowed parchment, with grease-pencil notes.

  “It’s a list of players with their formal titles,” she said. “I’ve written in the current names that I know and updated the losers.”

  — The Players —

  The Fool, Gamekeeper of Old (Matthew)

  The Magician, Master of Illusions (Finneas)

  The High Priestess, Ruler of the Deep

  The Empress, Our Lady of Thorns (Evie)

  The Emperor, Stone Overloard

  The Hierophant, He of the Dark Rites (Guthrie)

  The Lovers, Duke & Dutchess Most Perverse

  The Chariot, Wicked Champion

  Strength, Mistress of Fauna (LARK!)

  The Hermit, Master of Alchemy

  Wheel of Fortune, Lady of Fate

  Justice, She who Harrows (Spite)

  The Hanged Man, Our Lord Uncanny

  Death, The Endless Knight

  Temperance, Collectress of Sins (Calanthe)

  The Devil, Foul Desecrator (Ogen)

  The Tower, Lord of Lightning (Joules)

  The Star, Arcane Navigator

  The Moon, Bringer of Doubt (Selen)

  The Sun, Hail the Glorious Illuminator

  Judgment, The Archangel (Gabriel)

  The World, This Unearthly One

  “Where did you get this?” I asked.

  “Off my fridge door. Kidding. Like I said, my family chronicled. I wager more players have died, but I only scratch off those I can confirm through the calls. I heard others clamoring when Spite got offed. It was early on. Don’t know who did it though.”

  “The Alchemist”—I cleared my throat—“was named Arthur.”

  She tilted her head at me. “Okay. I’ll update it.” Her eyes began to glow red. “Hold on, we pause for this public service announcement. . . . We’ve got about two more hours till showtime.”

  Showtime. It sank in that we might all die tonight. Hell, Death had given me a week, and I was about at the end of it. If I only had a few more hours, I wanted to spend some time alone with Jack—and I wanted it badly enough to leave our cozy fire and head back out into the storm.

  I mentally asked Matthew, Will you be okay with Finn for a bit?

  —Empress is my friend. Finn is my friend.—

  Yes, we are. I’ll be back soon. I’m going to talk to Jackson.

  —He won’t like that.—

  I begged to differ. I rose, offering Jack my hand as I murmured, “You and I should recheck the perimeters. Just to be sure there aren’t any early birds.”

  He shot to his feet in an instant, grabbing my hand and his gear, announcing, “Perimeters are important.”

  I tried not to notice when Selena glanced away, her expression stricken.

  “Finn, you’ll stay with Matthew?”

  “Matto and I are inseparable. Haven’t you heard?”

  Matthew said, “Peas. Pod.”

  At that, Jack hastily squired me outside, as if he thought I’d change my mind.

  I could hear Finn chuckling. “Checking perimeters? Is that what the Louisiana kids are calling it these days? Hey, Lark, can I check your perimeter?”

  Jack was already dragging me out into the night. I’d been dizzy, cold, and weak just moments ago, but as I gazed at him, excitement filled me.

  I felt alive. . . .

  14

  He led me past one of the briar walls to the overhang where Matthew had sheltered earlier, and we leapt through that veil of water. Inside, it was like being cocooned from the world.

  He shook his hair out in that way I loved.

  “Aren’t you glad you stayed with us?” I asked him in a wry tone.

  “It’s never dull.” He pulled me close, nuzzling my ear. “Miss you, peekôn. Been with you the entire day, so how does that work?”

  God, I’d missed him more.

  “I doan know about the new girl though. All I been hearing is how these players are supposed to kill you. But I bet you’re still thinking new friend, new ally, non?”

  “Me? I’m not thinking new friend.” Okay, I might have been thinking new friend. She was funny. I liked her attitude.

  “Hell, Selena was ready to off you without blinking an eye. You kept telling me you didn’t trust her. Now I know why.”

  I frowned. “But she’s changed. She’s made up her mind to keep me alive.”

  “Look, all we know for certain about Lark is that she’s got monster wolves to do her bidding. I doan trust her. Just keep it close to the vest, Evie. No need to tell her anythi
ng about us. You’re the best secret keeper I know.”

  “Okay, I’ll try to learn more from her than I reveal.”

  He nodded. “If this thing goes sideways tonight, I want you to run.”

  I stroked the backs of my fingers along his jaw. “I’d never leave you in danger.”

  “You mean that, doan you?”

  “Yes. But if anything happens to me, I need you to take care of Matthew.”

  “Doan you dare talk like that, bébé.” He gripped my nape, a move that was at once protective and possessive. “I’m not goan to let anything happen to you, no.”

  “Well, don’t go leaping in front of bullets or anything. Remember, I regenerate.”

  “What if you got shot in the head, like Bagmen?”

  “I’ve wondered the same. But I think the Touch of Death is what I need to be looking out for.”

  “He’s not goan to hurt you either. Not while I’ve got a breath in my body.”

  When I shivered, Jack said, “I’ll start a fire.” He gathered some dry branches and kindling, arranging them near a shelf of raised ground in the back. With efficient moves, he struck his hunting knife against a flint, coaxing a fire to life. As it grew, he collected his sleeping bag from his pack, laying it atop that shelf.

  Shadows danced, the air soon heating. We sat side by side, warming our hands.

  The setting, the fire, the rushing water outside, the looming danger . . . everything was intense, primal. And at that moment, I felt as if I had been destined to end up in this place with this boy.

  We felt fated.

  He gazed down at me. “You know what we used to say about girls like you?”

  I shook my head.

  “You fall in love with your first.”

  “Ah.” I bumped my shoulder into his. “Now I see why you pushed so hard to score with me that night by the pool. All becomes clear.”

  His expression was serious. “I wanted you. Christ, I wanted you. But for a lot longer than a night. In my mind, if we slept together, we’d stay together. I needed that. I need that now.”

  Sometimes it was so apparent that he’d been raised in a different culture, one in which a boy carried a girl’s things to signal possession to other beaux. “What gives you that idea about me?”

  “Deny it, then.”

  I’d never had a first, much less stayed with him. But if Jack was mine, I thought his theory would prove to be correct.

  He raked his fingers through his hair. “Made me crazed when I heard your message to Brandon. That you were goan to let him have you.”

  Little had I known that Jackson had stolen Brandon’s phone, had listened to my message.

  “That was one of the reasons I was so angry when you came to my house that night,” Jack explained. “I figured you were already lost to me, but after what you saw there, I knew you were out of my reach. I didn’t act right.”

  “That’s past. I’m here with you now.” I placed my hand on his knee. “Like you said, we can pick up where we left off.”

  His body shot tight with tension.

  I bit my lip. “Just in case we somehow live past tonight, do you, uh, have protection?”

  “Ouais, and it’s from this century,” he teased, referencing our first ill-fated make-out session. “You sure about this? Last time . . .”

  I cupped his face. “We could die tonight.”

  Jack grinned down at me. “Now, hold on, Evie. You doan have to pull the last-night-on-earth con with me. I’m a sure thing.”

  I grinned back. “So am I.”

  I loved the flash of disbelief on his face, and the bob of his Adam’s apple as he registered this was going to happen.

  Every reason I’d held back from having sex before had been eliminated. I was in a relationship with Jack, and I trusted him, so I knew I wouldn’t get nailed and bailed. Before Jack, I’d felt no curiosity about it or passion. Now I could barely wait to take this step. An added bonus: I loved the boy. Which he already knew.

  So I daubed my tongue to my bottom lip, and he took the hint.

  Light grazes of his mouth over mine turned to deep kissing. Without breaking lip contact, we yanked off our coats, fumbled off our boots, peeled off our wet jeans. He drew back only to grab the hem of my shirt and pull it over my head.

  Once he’d removed his own, I gazed at his rosary. It was like Jack’s own emblem, his own symbol. Then I frowned at the tiny details around the cross, spying an engraved rose in the center.

  Rosary. Rose-ary. Jack carried a rose as well. Again, that fated feeling swept me up.

  When he laid me back, my hands flew to his chest. With utter delight, I began learning that damp skin, those rippling muscles, loving the way they leapt to my touch.

  As I explored him, he stared down at me in my underwear, rapt. My glyphs were shimmering across my skin. “Mercy me, Evie.” He leaned in to kiss the one winding across my chest, following it with his lips. “These spooked me before,” he rasped against my skin. “But now I think they’re sexy. Everything about you is sexy.” He gave it a lick that made my toes curl.

  “Hey, I-I’m sure you’re just mesmerized.” I wanted the rest of my clothes off, felt confined by damp lace.

  “Does it matter if I am? Non, not if I like it,” he said, shucking off his boxers.

  I caught a peek at him and gasped, my breaths shallowing.

  He was still smiling when he kissed me again. Soon I was so mindless, I scarcely noticed that he’d stripped off my bra—until his warm, rigid chest pressed against my bare breasts. He shuddered at the contact, groaning into our kiss. The weight of his body atop me was divine, welcome. Our hips began rocking, grinding, seeking.

  Then his forefingers hooked the edges of my panties. “Up you go, bébé.”

  When I lifted my hips, he tugged off the last barrier between us. Well, almost the last. From his jeans pocket, he took a condom pack, tearing the corner with his teeth. As he began rolling it on, I was transfixed. Utter lust.

  Seeming unaware of my gawking, he moved between my legs. His outer thighs brushed my inner ones, and then I felt him hard against me. My cheeks heated, my body softening for him.

  But as soon as he stretched over me, that pressure in my head increased. —The mortal is not for you!—

  I jerked in Jack’s arms.

  “What? Too fast?” He raised up above me. “You can tell me to stop if you want, Evie. Anytime you want me to.”

  —You cannot know him this way.—

  “No, I don’t want to stop. It’s one of the voices. Death’s. It’s like he’s in my head!”

  —He’s not for you, creature!— Death repeated.

  Why are you doing this to me? Are you such a hard-ass that you won’t allow the girl you plan on murdering some enjoyment in her final days?

  —You deserve nothing but misery!—

  Jack clenched his fists, the muscles in his arms corded with strain. “I’m goan to kill that son of a bitch, just for this.”

  Get in line. How in the hell is this your business?

  —Your death is mine, which means your life is mine.—

  You’re insane! Never had I heard Death like this. Before, he’d always been smoothly mocking, taunting me with my upcoming demise.

  Now his words were seething. —I am owed, Empress! Do this, and you will pay.—

  “Evie?”

  “I want this, Jack! Kiss me.”

  He did, briefly muting the Reaper, rekindling my excitement.

  But Death was yelling. —NEVER, CREATURE!—

  This place was perfect, a moment in time; it should be just me and Jack. Now Death was ruining it. “It’s no use. He doesn’t want us to do this. And I don’t understand why.”

  “Look at me, Evie. Stay with me.”

  I gazed up at Jack, peering into his eyes. They were stormy gray, filled with desire, yearning. Even vulnerability. “He doan get a goddamned say, now, does he?”

  When Jack held my gaze, Death was quieted, the heavy w
eight of his presence ebbing. —Sievā, do not do this. . . .—

  See-whatta? Then he faded.

  Faded to nothing.

  “His voice is quiet. This is working!”

  “Then I’m goan to be looking into your eyes when I take you. You hear me?”

  I nodded, wanting this more than I’d ever imagined I could.

  He traced his hand between us, lower, lower, dipping his fingers. “So hot,” he groaned. “So perfect. You want this too.” It wasn’t a question.

  He began touching me as I needed him to, petting me. Whatever he was doing made me crazed for more. I rocked my hips to his caressing fingers, lids growing heavy, but I kept my gaze pinned to his.

  His hips rocked too, wedging his hardness against me. My eyes went wide when he started to press inside. My glyphs ghosted over me faster.

  “Doan be scared, bébé,” he rasped with a brief kiss to my lips. “I’m goan to take care of you.” Staring down into my eyes, he began prodding deeper. “I’ve wanted you for so long.” And deeper. “My God, woman!” When he was all the way in, a strangled groan burst from his chest.

  Pain. I just stifled a wince, far from enamored with this.

  Voice gone hoarse, he said, “You’re mine now, Evangeline. No one else’s.”

  He must be right—because Death’s presence had disappeared completely.

  Jack held himself still, murmuring, “Doan hurt, doan hurt.”

  “It’s getting better.”

  “Ready for more?”

  I nodded. Then regretted it. Pain.

  Between gritted teeth, he said, “Evie, I got to touch you, got to kiss you. Or you woan like this.” A bead of sweat dropped from his forehead onto my neck, tickling its way down to my collarbone.

  “O-okay.”

  Still inside me, he raised himself up on his knees, his damp chest flexing. His hands covered me, cupped, kneaded, his thumbs rubbing. When I started arching my back for more, his body moved. And it was . . .

  Rapture.

  “Jack! Yes!”

  In a strained tone, he said, “God almighty—I am home, Evangeline.” Another thrust had me soaring. “Finally found the place . . . I’m supposed to be.”