by Kresley Cole
They remained frozen in shock.
The tent behind them was large enough to house a small circus. Jack was somewhere within! So close . . .
I raised my hideous dripping claws. In a tone that might give even Death chills, I said, "If Jack Deveaux loses his eyes, I will slice your flesh to ribbons and choke your lungs with vine. Am--I--clear, Franklin?"
Finally, one man lost control of his bladder. Franklin startled when I said his name. A risk.
Then, with a swallow, he waved his handpicked men away.
We were on.
Selena checked her watch. "Nine minutes. Smash and grab, and watch for teleporting freaks. Let's bring J.D. home."
11
At the tent flap, Selena pulled her gun and mouthed, One . . . two . . . three. We charged in.
The stench. The air reeked of smoke--and rot.
Randomly placed gas lanterns cast fluttering light. Moving shadows cloaked most of the space. Large beams supported the canvas roof. Rare sawdust covered the floor. With wood so scarce, this extravagance might as well be silk.
Along the edges of the tent, the twins had sectioned off areas with canvas, like stable stalls. The first stall contained a cage of snarling Bagmen.
Unclothed Bagmen? All of their oozing skin was bare. I'd never encountered one completely naked.
Though the creatures looked well-fed--were those blood troughs in the cage?--they were as hostile as ever. Like post-apocalyptic guard dogs. In a frenzy, they stretched their slimy arms past the bars enclosing them.
Each of those mindless beings had a brand on its chest, some kind of symbol, but I couldn't make it out under all the pus and slime.
Behind that cage stood another just like it. Inside, four young guys curled naked on the floor, bodies covered with bites. They gasped through blistered lips, as if dying of thirst.
Dawning realization. The twins were making Bagmen. Those four were in transformation--and they knew it. One wept over a trough of blood.
Selena remained grade-A stoic. "Keep going. Eight minutes."
The next stall housed a piece of equipment that looked like a giant juicer. Gore coated it.
Past another partition was something that resembled a sawhorse with a length of sharpened metal atop it. More blood and gore.
The next stall . . . a stand with bats, canes, whips, and pincers. Other things I couldn't place.
Had these very instruments been used on Clotile?
On Jack?
The Hierophant had slaughtered people for food, and the Alchemist had murdered for his sick pursuit of knowledge. I couldn't comprehend why the Lovers tortured. "Where the hell is Jack?"
"We'll find him."
Faced with more and more blood-curdling contraptions, I felt as disconnected as I'd ever been. A few Halloweens back, I'd gone to a haunted house filled with gruesome displays--for fun. None of the ghastly things had been real.
This was happening. Right? Even as it felt like I'd stepped into one of Matthew's visions.
What was real? Unreal?
We came upon another victim, a man kneeling with his wrists bound together, tied above his head to a roof support. He was shirtless, his body gaunt, his shoulders bulging at weird angles. Dislocated?
I thought he was balling his hands into fists, then realized his fingers had been cut off.
Stoic Selena actually gave a shudder. That would be her worst fear, wouldn't it? Never to draw another arrow.
His mouth was open. No teeth. A gash had been carved into his stomach. He had one of those brands below his collarbone, but his was older. The raised scar was about the size of a bookmark and depicted an odd symbol: a pair of overlapping triangles, bisected by two arrows, one pointing up, one down.
In front of him was another contraption that looked like a crank over an old-timey wishing well. A slimy rope of some kind had been wound around the crank.
"They're pulling it out," Selena murmured.
Pulling what out? She could see so much better than I could! Yet some part of me must have understood because nausea churned.
They remove things, discard them, transform people.
The man turned his head toward us. His eyes were solid black. No, not eyes. Sockets. The twins planned to do that to Jack.
"Six minutes, Evie. We'll come back for that guy." When we neared the far end of the tent, she whispered, "Behind the partition in the back. Listen."
Moans? Of pain? Selena readied her pistol. I bared my claws. We sidled closer.
Closer. Past the partition, we saw--
The twins.
I dry heaved. They were . . . kissing. Twincest.
When the pair started groping, Selena bit out, "Jesus. Get a womb, freaks."
Vincent and Violet took their time breaking apart, their gazes locked. Their pale blue eyes were just as Jack had once described: vacant, like a dead fish's.
Why weren't they threatened by us? Why weren't they trying to mesmerize us?
Though fraternal twins, they were nearly identical, with their marblelike skin and sharpish features.
Their clothing was all black, neatly pressed. Violet wore a cropped jacket and a skirt as full as a ball gown. A trench coat molded over Vincent's tall muscular form.
Expertly drawn eyeliner highlighted their lifeless eyes. Their nails were painted black, no chipping.
Vain? Oh, yeah. They weren't physically attractive, but they were faultless.
They sported brass knuckles on their left hands, as well as a Goth-looking tattoo. In her right hand, Violet held what resembled a remote control.
The twins finally turned to us. They stared at me with such intensity. As if seeing a ghost . . .
"We were wondering when you would arrive, Empress," Vincent said. His voice carried a trace of some European accent.
The Lovers' tableau appeared over them, but the image differed from other Arcana's. Theirs was upside down--reverse, perverse--and flickered like a bad copy. Because they shared it?
"Where is he?" Selena demanded from behind the gun barrel.
I gazed around, saw trunks, tables, and one bed--because the twins shared it. No Jack.
"You're just in time," Violet told us. "Our knave refused to turn the crank." With a swish of her overblown skirts, she stepped aside, drawing back one last partition to reveal--
"Jack!" He knelt with his hands tied and hung above his head, like the other man. He was shirtless, his torso covered with bruises. He seemed to be in and out of consciousness, trying to raise his lolling head.
His arms were dislocated, the right side of his face bloodied. They'd been hitting him with the brass-knuckles on their left hands.
I choked on a breath. That symbol had been branded into Jack's chest, over his heart.
The twins had met up--they'd started his torture. They'd burned the smooth skin that I'd sighed against and kissed.
They'd branded my Jack.
As I imagined that ungodly pain, my glyphs went ablaze, radiating through my clothes. Rage pumped inside me. My rose crown slithered around my head and neck as I grew stronger.
These two Arcana were not just going to die; the red witch would make them die bloody.
Selena was ice cold as she aimed her gun. "We'll be taking him now."
"Notice something?" Violet grabbed Jack's hair with her free hand. He didn't react, now completely out. She yanked his head back, exposing a metal collar around his neck, with wires attached and a railroad spike jutting from the loop. "If anything happens to me and I release this pressure sensor"--she raised that remote control--"the hunter gets the spike. Then it's game over."
Dread overran me, and I fought to rein in the witch, to call back my fury.
"If you want him to live, drop the gun, Archer." Vincent motioned toward her weapon. "And kick it over here."
Outwardly cool, Selena complied. Then she eyed the twins with deadly intent, waiting for her opening.
Vincent swooped up the gun, smiling at his sister. "It never fails. Con
trol the beloved, control the lover."
Violet smiled back, releasing Jack. "We go into a person's heart and see who it aches for. Then we enslave both lovers."
Vincent stowed the gun in his waistband, turning to me and Selena. "Imagine our surprise when we discovered the hunter loves the Empress. Could it be requited? We heard your call nearing and we knew--"
"--you were here to save him," Violet continued seamlessly. "Our soldiers might have failed to seize you in the stone forest, but we forced you to come to us. We can control you utterly, because of how you feel about Deveaux."
They were crazy--and that made them hard to gauge--but I didn't detect true animosity toward Selena. Me? They seemed to despise me.
"But I sense something else." Violet's eyes widened. "Your love is diluted! Another makes claim to your heart. And not just anyone!"
Vincent laughed. "It's her old nemesis!"
The twins found this astounding. Which, I guessed, it was.
"Unfortunately, we only have one of the men you love," Vincent said. "For now."
Violet frowned at Selena. "The Archer loves the hunter as well? What's so special about him? All he does is steal." When she slapped Jack's face, my claws ached to plunge into her neck like hypodermic needles. "Oh dear. He's gone under again. The selfish man only wakes for his beatings. Which clearly means those are his favorites!"
"We gave you the choice," Vincent told an unconscious Jack. "Torture or be tortured? You mortals always choose incorrectly, until we introduce you to pain, enlightening you. Then you never choose the same!"
I furtively clawed my palms, dripping blood onto the ground. Vines could sneak beneath Violet, then shoot up to secure that sensor. But the risk . . .
Selena had no such qualms, was inching closer, soundless over the sawdust. With her superhuman reflexes, could she strike before Violet reacted?
"So how should we enlighten him?" Violet tapped her chin with a polished black nail. "The Pear of Anguish, the Scavenger's Daughter, the Heretic's Fork, or the Spanish Spider? Or we could simply maim."
"Excellent idea, Vi. His hunter's eyes have watched us so closely, I'm keen to scoop them out." He crossed to a nearby table, turning on a portable camping burner. A charred tablespoon lay beside it.
A knot tightened in my stomach when he raised the utensil over the flame. While it heated, he cast me a casual, la-di-da smile--as if he waited for a coffeemaker to finish a pot.
But Selena closed in on striking range. I needed to distract the twins. "Why do you do it? Why torture?"
"To practice our craft, exploring the pains and pleasures of the flesh," Vincent said. "We are tools used by The First. The First will learn through us."
"First?" Watching the Archer eerily stalk her prey made me glad she was on my side.
Vincent turned the spoon. "The Hallowed First, whom we serve."
"I don't understand."
He exhaled. "What we hear is heard. What we see is seen. What we know is known." If you say so. "But we soon developed a taste for torture, because we're Arcana."
Insane twin logic. "That doesn't mean you have to torture."
"Did the Hierophant and the Alchemist die peacefully?" Vincent's expression was superior.
Both had died in agony. "I acted in self-defense--for no other reason." Yet hadn't the red witch gotten a high from the kills?
Violet snapped, "You enjoyed it enough in the last game!" Finally, unconcealed emotion from her. "I doubt your tastes have changed."
"What are you talking about?"
When she gazed at Vincent, his pale irises briefly turned black. "Tell her. The First will see her reaction."
"It's you," Violet hissed. "We practice torture--for you."
12
"Didn't you ever wonder why we marched on Haven?" Vincent asked me. "We planned to make you a prisoner of our love, getting our revenge. But this is even better. We know how much harder it is to see a loved one tormented. You taught us that."
Me?
Violet added, "You once told us, 'Love is the most destructive force in the universe.' You were right."
I shook my head. "I-I've never seen you before. I don't know what you're talking about."
"Don't act oblivious!" Spittle flew from Vincent's lips. "Your line chronicles, just as ours does."
"I've never read my history. I only know fragments."
They studied me, must've decided I was telling the truth.
"Then we'll bring you up to speed." Violet moved beside her brother. "In the last game, we were in an alliance. Until you betrayed us. You trapped me in your vines, but you couldn't catch my lover. To lure him, you tortured me so savagely--"
"--that I surrendered, to spare my beloved," Vincent picked up. "I made the choice to sacrifice myself. At least in the end you were true to your word: you dispatched us swiftly enough."
"Everything we do is because of you." Violet reached for Vincent, playing with the hair at his nape. "Every move our family makes, we consider you. My father named me Violet because I'm the only flower you'll never control. Never again."
She talked as if I'd . . . formed them? Like they formed new Bagmen. My nausea churned anew.
Horrifying words leapt to my tongue: I was just playing the game. But I remained silent.
If their story had been written, I would have been the villain.
Then I realized it had been written.
Chronicled.
"We are choice, Empress," Vincent and Violet told me in unison. "We are retribution. And we remember. Soon you'll see. We will love you ever so much."
I expected them to clasp hands and swing their arms, but Violet kept playing with his hair while holding that sensor. He continued heating the spoon. When would they reveal their powers?
My gaze darted to Selena. What did she think about all this?
She was so close. I needed to give her more time. "I'm different than I was in the last game," I told the twins. "I'm disgusted by what was done to you. But you'll still punish me?"
Vincent flashed a predator's smile. "In unspeakable ways."
Together, they added, "Practice has made perfect."
I stifled a shudder.
"You'll watch us break and kill the man you love," Vincent said. "Then we'll take you and the Archer north, as prisoners of our love. You'll behold the First with your own eyes--before we take them from you, naturally." He glanced at Selena; she'd already gone motionless. "By the time you arrive, Archer, your arm will be healed," he told her. "A blank canvas for the First to transform."
How did he know about her arm? Spies? "Why torture Selena? She didn't do anything to you."
"The Archer's body glows red, the color of bloodletting," Violet mused. "This fascinates the First. The First will personally torment it."
"She satisfies our tastes." Vincent peeled his gaze from Selena. "You are for retribution."
I told him, "That will never happen."
"How are you going to stop us? An Empress in a world of ash?" He scoffed. "We expected more of a challenge from you and the others. We heard all your calls as you gathered. But only two faced us? This isn't fun at all."
Violet's hand descended to rub her brother's back. "We like games and fun. You've given us neither."
"More are coming," I said, bluffing. "The heavy hitters of our alliance. We're just the opening act."
"Alliances force choices," Vincent said. "When to enter into one. When not to honor one. In a pinch, no Arcana will truly be an ally. You just temporarily use each other."
My relationship with Death bore that out. But what about Selena dragging Finn home despite her broken bones? "That's not true. Not anymore. This game is different. We are different."
As if I hadn't spoken, Violet released her brother to traipse behind Jack, that sensor in hand. "Prisoners of our love force choices. Now that we have the two of you and the hunter, will the rest of your alliance try to free you?"
"Of course," I lied. Would Gabriel return? All he knew was that I
'd gone crazed and clawed Tess, just as Joules had warned.
"Are you ready over there, Vi? It's almost hot enough." To me, Vincent said, "When the spoon singes away the eyelashes before the metal touches flesh, it's the ideal temperature."
Violet snatched Jack's hair and lifted his head again. "Wake up, knave!" She gave him a shake. Nothing. "He'll come to when you're ready, beloved."
I hastily told them, "If you gouge out my eyes, they'll grow back." I thought. "A few months ago, I severed my own thumb, and it regenerated. Don't you want to see that? You can cut off my fingers over and over." A sentence I never imagined I would utter.
Vincent gave me a disinterested wave of his hand. "We're getting to that." He inspected the sizzling spoon.
I was boring him. Think! "Where in the north is the First? Is that your dad?"
Selena gripped her sword hilt, muscles tensing--
"Now, now, Archer." With his free hand, Vincent smoothly brandished and cocked the pistol he'd taken from Selena.
She froze.
He definitely knew how to use that gun. "Go stand next to the Empress," he ordered her. "I want you both front row for this."
When Selena turned toward me and I saw her face, I felt like I'd been punched in the gut.
She wore an expression I'd never seen on her before: bewilderment. For the first time since I'd met her, the Archer had no clue what she was going to do next.
13
"Everything we do to him, we'll do to you," Vincent told me as he closed in on Jack.
Violet beamed with anticipation. "I long for his screams." With a giggle, she admitted, "He'll be so handsome when he yells."
Vincent glowered, jealous. "Vi?"
"Not more than when you yell, my love."
While they had their Lovers' quarrel, I whispered to Selena, "Use me. As a bullet shield. Get to the sensor."
"Fuckin' A, Evie." She grabbed my shoulder. "Ready?"
I nodded, bracing for bullets--
A shrieking whistle sounded, like an approaching rocket. Loud as an explosion, the tent canvas above us . . . surged upward, disappearing into the night's murk.
Gabriel?
He'd snatched the tent away on a flyby!
Beams collapsed, furniture tumbling. Taking advantage of the twins' confusion, Selena yanked her sword free and lunged for Violet. With blistering speed, she slashed off the girl's arm. Before the limb could hit the floor, Selena snared the sensor.
She slid Violet's thumb off, covering the button with her own. "Got it, you bitch."